


The Leap

by iamhere23



Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Basically Neal is a little thief and Peter gives him a second chance, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, some violence, teen neal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 01:45:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 42,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6403609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamhere23/pseuds/iamhere23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifteen year old Neal Caffrey is caught by the FBI in possession of forged paintings. Will he help agent Peter Burke solve the case? Will he take a leap of faith and finally trust someone to be there for him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Teen!Neal idea came from LStuds' wonderful fanfic 'Damage Control', you should check it out if you have the chance (over at fanfiction(.)net). I've been transferring all my White Collar fics to a03. This one was by far my most successful one and was originally posted about 5 years ago. Hopefully all you new readers enjoy it too!

Special Agent Peter Burke looked up as the door opened with an automatic click. It was noisy inside the visiting hall of Crossroads Juvenile Center. There were a lot of kids and visitors scattered in different tables around the room. A woman who looked just like the boy sitting in front of her in an orange jumpsuit was crying loudly.

He was directed to the last table away from the door he just entered. The Correctional Officer gestured for him to sit down as he explained the situation to Peter.

"We've been trying to contact his parents or guardians. We haven't found any yet. He hasn't used his phone calls to call them or his attorney, says he doesn't have one. He's having a Detention Hearing before a judge in two days. You've talked to his social worker? She'll come in with Caffrey when you talk to him."

Peter nodded. He had talked to the woman for a few minutes before making the trip to the Detention Center. His first impression, even over the phone, had been that she wasn't interested in helping. She certainly wasn't interested in getting in the way of the FBI for a criminal kid, which in this instance was alright with him. He really needed to get something out of the kid.

"Anything else I should know about?" Peter asked.

"Not really. He got into a fight with some of the other punks yesterday during lunch but he's okay."

Peter nodded to acknowledge the information as the CO left him sitting down on the bench and went off to get the prisoner. Peter couldn't believe he was actually in a Juvie Hall. As part of the White Collar division of the FBI he never thought that he'd have to deal with a teenager criminal. Who's ever heard of a teenager forger/con artist?

After a few minutes the door in front of him opened and the same CO returned with a teenager in an orange jumpsuit and a woman behind him whom he assumed was Carly Jackson, the social worker.

Neal Caffrey was not too tall for a fifteen year old. His head was covered with a mop of wavy brown hair. It was a bit greasy and fell over his face a little bit on the sides, but otherwise it looked perfectly styled. He had the brightest blue eyes Peter had ever seen. He moved a bit stiffly and had a nasty bruise on his arm, but as he turned to sit in front of Peter he flashed him an incredibly disarming smile. Miss Jackson took a seat beside the boy, far enough so they didn't touch.

"I'm Peter Burke, FBI. NYC White Collar Division." He set his badge in the table in front. "So, Neal Caffrey, adolescent criminal, I presume?"

Caffrey's smile widened as he took a searching look at Peter and suddenly decided that he liked him. "Alleged adolescent criminal, Agent Burke," he said.

"Cut the crap Caffrey. You were caught in the act. There were stolen and forged paintings right beside you in that warehouse."

"But you can't actually prove if I forged them or not," Caffrey replied.

"We still have you on possession of stolen property. Do you really think that if I look very hard, I won't find something to add forgery to that?" Peter asked.

The kid didn't even bother to answer. He was looking at Peter's badge and examining it as if he could find something to prove that it was a fake.

"I've never met a federal agent before," he said as he handed the badge back to Peter.

"I think most fifteen year olds wouldn't have a reason to know one."

"Yeah, well I'm not most fifteen year olds, can't you tell?" Caffrey answered with another smile. Peter could see that the kid was good at deflecting and he was good at lying. He was smart too. He liked smart.

Peter opened the file he had carried along and started reading. "Neal Caffrey, fifteen years old. Mother deceased four years ago, father deceased thirteen years ago. Born in New Jersey. You have no other family except your mother's sister which lives with her husband and their two children." He looked up to find Caffrey looking directly at him. He seemed to be paying attention, looking to see if there was something in the file he could actually refute or use to his advantage.

"It seems like you've been living on your own here in New York City for a while," Peter continued, "there's no record of you in school for at least 3 years. You got caught once before when you were 12 for shop lifting, got sent to a foster home after a week in Juvie. They couldn't locate any relatives, but it didn't matter because you ran away after a day there. You've been in the Missing Children posters and alerts for years now, but nobody has seen or heard form you since then. How have you been able to stay underground for so long?"

Neal shrugged. "Good luck and lots of charm of course, Agent Burke."

Peter sighed. He obviously wouldn't get anything out of the kid by being subtle, so he tried another approach. "Caffrey, you know why I'm here, right?"

Neal raised his eyebrows, blinked once and answered truthfully. "You need me to provide you with information about the art heists and forgery scams that have been taking place in the last six months or so."

"Yes," Peter said, deciding to be honest with him as well. "In fact, you are our only lead in this case. We've never been this close before and I've been working on this for 2 years. I need you to help me catch whoever is behind this, because I don't believe for a second that I have before me a teen criminal mastermind capable of pulling all of this off."

Caffrey actually looked offended as he replied. "You hurt my feelings Agent Burke. Maybe you'd like to consider the fact that I'm  _that_  good."

"Oh, I don't doubt that you're very good. But this is a big operation, too big for someone of your _stature_ to pull off," Peter said.

The kid seemed to consider his position for a few seconds before answering. "I can't give you anything Agent Burke," he said slowly. "I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I've got nothing to do with those stolen paintings."

"What about the forgeries?"

Caffrey's demeanor changed instantly and he asked in a conceited tone, "They are pretty accurate, don't you think?" he said.

"Tell me you didn't do this." Peter insisted.

"I didn't do this?" Neal shrugged.

"Dammit Caffrey," Peter said under his breath as he stood up and started pacing before the table. He took a look at the kid again. He looked smart, too smart for his own good. Something about him made Peter want to help him, but he couldn't. He couldn't do a single thing for him if he didn't give anything in return. He was a con and a criminal after all. He wasn't to be trusted. "They're putting you inside for good. You'll be here until you're 18. You know that, right?"

"Yes, I'm aware of that," he said as he looked away.

"You still won't give me anything?" Peter asked.

Neal looked at his hands and his bruised arm. Despite everything he had to fear inside this place it still wasn't enough to go against the man that he knew would be waiting for him outside. "Sorry, no," he said quietly not meeting Peter's eyes again.

Peter took one more look at him and then turned to the social worker. "Miss Jackson, I guess that will be all." She stood up to shake his hand and went to call the CO to take Neal back inside.

Neal stood up and Peter couldn't help seeing him shudder as he looked back at the corridor filled with detainees in orange jumpsuits. Some of the guys in there didn't even look like kids, Peter thought, as he followed Caffrey's gaze. Some even had stubble and most of them were tattooed. Caffrey looked positively innocent and out of place compared to those other guys.

"Wait" Peter called as Neal started to walk to the door. Neal turned around to Peter and gave him a questioning look. "Just…" He paused trying to find something to say. "Be careful Caffrey."

"I'll be fine Agent Burke. I'm always fine." He gave Peter a final dazzling smile, turned around, and walked confidently into the crowd to wait for visiting hour to be over.

As soon as he was sure that Agent Burke had left the visiting area, Neal tried to move as fast as he could to the other door at the end of the hall without bumping or touching any of the other guys. Neal couldn't help thinking about how big some of them were or about how dangerous. All the prisoners had to wait for visiting hours to be over in a common hall for the COs to take them back to their cells.

He could spot Keller and his goons on the left of the hall looking at him. He avoided their gaze and continued to the end of the hall. There were 10 minutes left before they would take them back inside and he didn't really want a repeat of yesterday's fight. Four big guys had taken his lunch food and roughed him around until the officers decided to get them off of him. They decided he wasn't hurt enough for the infirmary and they just took him back to his cell. It really wasn't fair. He had no chance against four guys. He fisted his hands as he thought about it. He might not have looked hurt, he wasn't bleeding or anything, but he still  _felt_  hurt. He wasn't about to admit it to anyone, but some pain killers would have been heaven sent last night.

He reached the end of the hall and started thinking about the visit he just received. Peter Burke seemed like a competent agent. Although rarely honest himself, Neal liked the honesty and determination in Peter's eyes. He had done the right thing in not helping him. According to Mozzie no "suit" could be trusted. He wasn't sure helping Agent Burke would help him get out of here. He didn't need less time in Juvie, he needed to get out. He couldn't risk telling a suit about  _him_  if that didn't get him out in return.

He was still thinking about this when he noticed that everyone had drifted away from where he was by the door. He looked around and saw Keller and two of the guys from yesterday approaching him. _Oh no_ … he turned to look at the clock in the wall behind him on the other side of the bars. Five minutes left.  _Great. Plenty of time for a nice beating._

As soon as he realized that he wouldn't be able to get away he just couldn't think anymore. His breathing was getting faster by the second and he could feel his palms sweating and his blood pounding in his head. He didn't know if he could take this for much longer. He needed to get out of here. He tried to yell for a guard as one of the bigger guys grabbed him by the shoulders, but nothing would come out as he struggled to breath. The last thing he thought before the pain and unconsciousness was that Mozzie had better hurry up with a plan because he didn't think he could last inside for much longer.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter returned to his house that day feeling more conflicted that he'd been in a long time. Neal Caffrey was an enigma to him. He just couldn't fight the thought running through his head.

_He's just a kid. Fifteen, just a kid.._.

What had happened to Caffrey to make him go into a life of crime? Something was definitely wrong with the system if they had let an eleven year old live by himself in the streets. No wonder he had turned to a criminal life to survive. Nonetheless, he was a criminal now. He couldn't trust him, of that much he was sure. He was a con. The only problem was that if he didn't get another break in this case soon, then he'd have to go back to Caffrey and do the dance all over again. The kid wouldn't want to talk, again, and he'd be left with nothing. Again.

Peter was sitting in his dining room table going over Caffrey's files when he heard the door open and Satchmo got up from his place near the sofa to greet his wife.

"Hi honey," Elizabeth said in a cheerful voice looking over the papers spread around the table and reaching over to kiss her husband.

"Hey El. How was your day?" Peter lifted his head to kiss her as she pulled her arms around him in a hug.

"A bit frantic. One of the places where we order flower arrangements got robbed last night and they won't be able to finish the orders we had for this weekend, so I spent half the morning going to other places and trying to arrange everything for the Martin wedding on Saturday." Elizabeth waited for Peter to say something but he seemed absorbed in the file he was reading.

"How about you hon? How was your day?" she asked as she sat down beside him.

"Mmm? Well, we finally got a break on that big art forgery case," Peter answered, still reading the file on his hand.

"That's great honey," said Elizabeth watching him closely. Peter frowned at something he read on the file. "It's not great?" she asked.

Peter put down the file and turned to face Elizabeth. "Well, it's not what I expected. We'd been keeping watch over 3 museums over the last week. I had a hunch that one of them would be the next target. Yesterday we struck luck and caught one of the criminals with an impeccable forgery and the original painting that was being stolen."

"That's good then. You finally have a lead to investigate who's behind all of this."

"It's just not what I expected, I guess. The policemen saw three people, but they only caught one: fifteen year old Neal Caffrey. I went to see him today at Crossroads Juvenile Center." Peter explained.

El frowned at the unexpected information. "Fifteen? What was he doing there? Where are his parents?"

"No parents. His dad was a dirty cop that died in a shooting when he was two. Caffrey probably doesn't even remember him. His mom was shot by a mugger on her way back home from work when he was eleven. He's been living with God knows who for the last four years. Apparently he's kept busy building up a criminal career as well." Peter looked perplexed; there had to be something more to the story.

"So he's not telling you what you want to know?"

Peter shook his head. "No. He wouldn't say…anything, which doesn't make any sense. He's already caught. He's been to Juvie before so this is his second offence. He'll be locked up until he's eighteen for this. If he talks then I can get him a deal."

El raised her eyebrows. "So, if he talks he gets less time in jail and then a foster group home for delinquents?"

"Yes. Either way it doesn't look good for him. He's smart, El. He's got to know that a foster home is better than where he is now." Peter moved some papers around and started going through one file while he talked to El. "In the same holding area with Caffrey there's a seventeen year old charged with the attempted murder of a pregnant woman, a fifteen year old sentenced for beating to death another teen, a fourteen year old convicted for murdering his father with a hammer…"

Peter lifted some of the papers in the folder while he scanned them. "Teenagers in for murder, robbery, assault, rape, drug offenders…" He let the papers drop on the table and rested his head in his hands. He couldn't go on. He knew that White Collar crimes where the 'elegant' type of crimes, but that didn't mean a thing inside prison.

"I've read every file on him. Caffrey might be a liar and a con but he's not violent. I don't think I want that to change. Why won't he talk El? He's smart, smarter than a lot of the Harvard probies around the FBI."

She grabbed his hand and started rubbing small circles on it with her thumb. "If he's that smart then he knows that someone outside is watching him. You said he's got a boss somewhere that's behind all of this? Neal probably knows that nothing good will come out of ratting him out. He'll probably be in more trouble than he already is in Juvie," she concluded.

"El, I don't know how I got to marry someone so smart." Peter smiled and reached over to give her a kiss. She kissed him back and got up to get dinner ready. Peter watched her leave and continued going over the files. He needed to catch a new break with this case. He would have to go back to talk with Caffrey.

\----------------

 

Neal stared at his ceiling. He felt cold, despite the blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders. He was hurting again. It had been 3 weeks since they've caught him, 20 days since he'd turned down Agent Burke's offer. Less time in Juvie for selling out Adler, it was starting to look like a sweet deal after all.

Keller and his goons:  _Stupid, Jackass_ and _Dumbass_  – as he referred to them in his mind - had been treating him like a human punching bag ever since he entered Crossroads. He'd been in the infirmary four times in 21 days. Neal thought it was almost as if they were trying to make him hurt slowly. They hadn't managed to break anything yet and the doctor wasn't worried about extensive damage, but his bruised ribs, arms and face begged to differ with his assessment. Neal had tried everything that had come to his mind to get out of their way. He'd stayed inside his cell every single time he could, but he couldn't avoid breakfast, lunch, and dinner in the common hall. They liked to steal his food, and Neal couldn't remember a time when he'd felt more hungry and hurt in his life.

_Alone. You feel alone,_ he thought _._  But he'd always felt alone. He'd spent most of his life alone. Mozzie hadn't visited him yet. Not that Neal had ever thought he would. He'd sent a letter a day, every time with a different fake address. Neal knew he shouldn't respond to any of the letters anyway.

The plan was almost finished. A small guy who was known for getting and distributing contraband inside had brought him a package yesterday. It contained street clothes (a pair of jeans, tennis shoes, a faded blue t-shirt, a black hoodie sweater, and a baseball cap), there was an electronic access card, and a paper labeled "Instructions". He had read through the plan more times than he could think of. He'd memorized the steps and had then flushed the paper down the toilet.

_Thank God for Mozzie._  Everything was ready for his escape the next day.

Neal tried not to think about it, but he knew things were getting too hard for him to handle. He knew what happened when he was too anxious... The beatings were getting harder to avoid. He'd been passing out more than he usually did. He couldn't take three years of this. He couldn't take another day of this. Mathew Keller had warned him the last time they saw each other, after Kate had joined Mozzie and him to work for Adler. It had been her choice.

Mathew Keller was in for murder. He'd killed three security guards after stealing some paintings from the Channing. Kate had dumped Keller six months before she'd ever even seen Neal, but that didn't deter Keller from forming an unusually strong dislike towards him.

_It didn't matter at the end…Kate was dead._

Neal closed his eyes and tried to remember her smile, the fruity smell of her hair, her gorgeous blue eyes, and her wonderful laugh. She had been a friend. His girlfriend. One of the only persons in his life he'd ever cared about. One of the only ones who'd cared about him. Mozzie had explained it in a letter, and Neal still couldn't believe that he would never see her again. Adler's men had shot her after they had messed up their last job. He was caught and she was dead. Mozzie was too good to get caught by either the suits or Adler, so Kate had paid the price for their failure.

He tossed around in his bed and turned to face the wall. It was night and hardly any light made itself through the window above him.

_I didn't even say goodbye. She didn't say goodbye. She just...left…_

He turned around and wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

_Tomorrow. I'll get the hell away from here tomorrow and everything will be okay._

He felt tired. He closed his eyes and tried to rest, even though he knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep.

\----------------

 

Neal sat down for a few seconds to compose himself. It was visiting hours during Saturday. It was the busiest time of the week and little attention was put to the ones that stayed in their cells. He grabbed the bag with the clothes from inside the toilet and dried it off with a towel. He opened it and took out the security card, but left the clothes. He pulled down the zipper from the orange jumpsuit and put the bag with the clothes inside. He had a bit of trouble zipping it back up, but he managed it. Neal thought he probably looked like a chubby kid in clothes way too tight. He sat back down in his bed and waited.

He stayed there expectantly, his breathing getting faster again, until he heard his cell door click open. Neal looked carefully outside to see if anyone had noticed a door opening but there wasn't anyone near his cell and if some of his neighbors heard, they didn't seem to care. He left and walked as normally as he could down the corridor. The last thing he needed was someone to spot him running in the surveillance cameras. He hid behind a turn in the next passageway and waited for a CO to pass with a small kid that looked scared out of his wits. He walked in the opposite direction and made his way to the laundry room.

He held the security access card in his hand. He held it up and swapped it through. The little flashing light turned green and he quickly stepped inside. It was a big place but there was no one inside at the moment. They had an hour for lunch break. He followed a small clearing between the washing machines all the way to another door. He swapped the card and went through. The food company's truck was parked a few feet away as promised. He looked both ways, walked over, opened the back door to the truck, got inside, and closed it behind him. It was a big truck and he made his way to the end behind some boxes. He took out the bag of clothes and changed. He pushed his hair back and put the cap on.

He sat down to wait and five minutes later he heard muffled voices from outside, then some doors slamming and the truck being started. He felt it move and smiled.

_Thanks Mozz._

He was on his way to freedom at last.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Neal had always liked New York City. It was a wonderful place for someone that didn't want to be found. Neal had made his way out of the food truck when it stopped at a red light after 15 minutes of pulling away from Crossroads. He made his way to a nearby park and sat down in a bench in a quiet area. Mozzie hadn't really specified what he should do or how they would get in touch after his escape.

Neal did a mental inventory of everything he had and what he should do. The officers in Crossroads probably wouldn't notice that he was gone until they went through the rounds at dinner time and he didn't go out of his cell. Neal smiled at the thought that they would go inside his cell and find a perfectly good imitation of a body in his bed, made out of a pillow and books beneath his blanket. They would probably sound the alarm then, but he still had a good two hour head start before he would really have to worry about it.

He had normal clothes on and although he usually preferred something a bit classier, like a button down dress shirt, some nice pants, and his fedora, he admitted that his current look was for the best. At least the clothes were clean.

Apart from his attire, he didn't have anything else. Mozzie had sent him some money with the package but it had never reached him. Neal was pretty sure that someone had picked it out before the bag actually got to him. Not that money was really an issue for him. He'd been picking pockets and conning his way through every day since he was 11. No, money definitely wasn't the problem. The problem was that he was below sub par to say the least. He'd been in jail for almost a month. He'd been beaten almost every day, and he hadn't eaten a decent meal in ages. He was hungry. After fifteen minutes of trying to make up a plan, that's the only thing he could actually come up with: he was _so_  hungry.

Neal stood up straight and with as much confidence as possible and started walking in the direction where he knew there would be some easy targets. After some time walking around, he spotted his mark. He walked briskly towards him and ten seconds later he had his wallet in his own pocket. Neal took cover behind a tree and went through the man's wallet. He came up with forty dollars in cash. He wasn't stupid enough to try to use any of the credit cards. He put the money in his back pocket and walked over towards two police officers eating lunch in a bench. He dropped the wallet beside a trash can where they couldn't miss it and walked away. He needed the money, but the guy obviously needed his ID and cards back. He was sure that the police men would pick it up.

After crossing the street to a nearby slightly disgusting looking pizza place, he made his way back to his original bench and sat down to attack two pieces of pizza and an orange soda. It was a Thursday, which meant that Mozzie was most likely at his place in Wednesday. Neal decided that he would go to his flat and see if he could find him there. If that didn't work out, then he'd just have to look at the rest of his places. One place for every day of the week. They weren't too far apart, but it would take time. At least he had a plan now.

Neal grabbed his second piece of pizza with gusto. Greasy pizza had never tasted better.

\---------------

 

To say he was disappointed was an understatement. It was late, he was tired, and hungry again. To make matters worse, he'd been halfway around New York City by now and he hadn't found traces of Mozzie anywhere. Every single place was empty. His last hope was Monday. Unfortunately, that particular flat was located dangerously close to Crossroads. Well, not close enough to worry, but it was also in Brooklyn. By now, they had found out he escaped. They had probably alerted the police. He had to be careful.

Neal made his way towards a small shop in the corner of a street and bought a sandwich and a bottle of water. He made his way out of the light and tried to walk calmly down the street when he saw a police car drive by slowly. He fought the sudden impulse to run as fast as possible in a different direction and his heart started pounding inside his rib cage. The best disguise was achieved by being a nobody, blending in with the environment. Mozzie had taught him that. He released a shaky breath when the car turned a corner up ahead and he was alone in the street once more.

This wasn't good. He needed somewhere out of the way to eat his food and then make his way to Mozzie's before someone spotted a kid all alone out in the middle of a rather chilly night and started asking questions. The shortest route to Mozzie's place involved going through some quiet residential streets.

Neal was looking around when he spotted the perfect place down some stairs of a rather abandoned looking house. He made his way down and sat at the bottom in front of a black door. The place was dirty, but he didn't care. After making sure that he couldn't be spotted from the street he sat down in the last concrete stair. He was about to take a bite of his sandwich when he heard a voice dangerously close to him. He was startled, thinking he'd been made out, but after a second of near panic, he realized that the voice wasn't talking to him.

"Hand it over lady. I don't want to tell you again." Neal made his way slowly up the stairs crouching low so he could observe what was going on in the street.

"Okay, just let me go first. I'll give you my purse, just let my arm go so I can give it to you."

The other voice sounded remarkably collected. Neal went up another step and saw that the first voice belonged to a large man. He had a mask on and he was grabbing a woman by her right forearm. Neal couldn't make out much of her face, but by the sound of her voice he could tell that she wasn't too old.

"This is the last time lady. Give me your purse or I'll you'll get hurt." He sounded angry now and Neal realized that he had been slurring his words. He was most likely drunk, but that only made him more dangerous. He watched with increasing horror as the man grabbed the woman closer and reached with his other arm for something in his pocket. He was taking it out and Neal saw a flash of silver. He was mugging this woman, and now he had a gun. He was going to kill her.

Neal's breathing was getting dangerously defective by now. His heart was pounding rapidly and he could feel the rhythm pounding in his head. This wasn't happening…

_Gun. Neal, gun. Run. Now._

Without giving it a second thought he quickly climbed the last of the stairs and grabbed the man's left foot as hard as he could. The man was obviously caught off guard and he released the woman immediately and stumbled back. Neal turned around and pushed him down the stairs. The man never saw it coming and he disappeared stumbling down all the way to the last step where Neal had been hiding a moment before.

Not wasting any time, Neal turned around, caught the woman's scared eyes, and made his way over to grab her hand.

"Come on", he said rapidly, "I don't think he'll stay down there for long." He pulled on her hand and turned around to run towards safety. She hesitated for a second and then she started running with him. They made it down two blocks until they stopped and rested panting against a wall in front of a lamp post.

"I think we lost him." The woman was talking to him. He turned his head to look at her. She was pretty, beautiful actually. Her face was flushed. She had long brown wavy hair and she was dressed impeccably, but the thing that caught his attention was her bright blue eyes. His head was still pounding and he put a hand up to his head to try to hold it still.

"Hey, are you okay?" She asked, concern evident in her tone of voice.

Neal turned to look at her again and felt himself starting to calm down a bit. Good. The last thing he needed was to pass out in front of a complete stranger. A perfectly nice looking stranger, but a stranger none the less.

"Yeah." He tried to sound as normal as possible. "Yeah, I'm okay, just out of air from running," he said quickly.

She turned away from him and looked down the street where they had come up running. She looked concerned, scared even.

"Don't worry he won't come looking for us," Neal said after observing her for a moment.

"How do you know?"

"He just won't. He sounded drunk and you never go after someone who hasn't even seen you, that's just asking for more trouble."

The woman turned back to look at the strange person that had helped her. Now that they were beneath a bright light she looked a bit surprised at his appearance. He looked young, fourteen/fifteen years old. His hair looked long under his blue cap and his clothes were what any normal teenager would wear: jeans, t-shirt, a hoodie, and tennis shoes. Something felt wrong though. What was a kid doing out alone in the middle of the night? She looked at him as he straightened up and found herself smiling at the most wonderful blue eyes she'd ever seen.

"Thank you, by the way," she said coming over to stand in front of him, "I think you just saved my life."

The kid looked at her strangely, shook his head a little bit and when she met his eyes again he flashed her a dazzling smile. "You're welcome. You should really be more careful."

His voice was soft, soothing. She checked him over again and noticed that despite his wonderful smile, he looked tired. He looked exhausted to say the truth. He was still holding something in his hand and he turned it over and walked past her to throw it in the trash can. She saw that it was a rather pathetic looking sandwich. She immediately realized that he was too thin, his clothes were a bit loose. He was walking slowly too, as if he was sore.

"Did you hurt yourself?" she asked.

"No, I'm just tired. It's late and I'll probably be grounded for a month after I get home at this hour." Neal lied smoothly. The woman was looking too closely at him. Maybe she'd heard something about an escaped kid from Juvie. He had to get going before something else happened.

It didn't look like she believed him. "Do you have some place to go? Somewhere to stay for the night?"

"Yeah, I was on my way home from a party. My house is a bit far away from here tough, so I guess I'll just get going." Neal turned around and started walking when he felt a hand on his arm and he turned back and shook it off.

"Look, I'm not trying to get you in trouble or anything, but it's late. You just saved my life. You look tired and I live two blocks away from here." She nodded back to the direction they'd come from. "I had to park my car a block away and was walking to my house when that man tried to mug me." She paused for a moment. "What I'm trying to say is that you could come over to get cleaned up and I'll call you a cab or you could stay in my house for the night if you need somewhere to stay."

Neal was startled. The woman hardly knew him and she was inviting him to stay over. He could be a criminal… okay, yes, he was a criminal, but he could be the not so nice criminal type. Her offer sounded like a trap.

She saw him hesitating and asked another question, "Are you hungry? I've got some left overs back at my place."

Neal looked at her again. He was tired. He felt sore. He was so hungry that his stomach was actually growling again and to tell the truth, he didn't have any place to go to. His search for Mozzie had been futile and he was sure that the last place was empty as well. This woman was offering a free dinner and bed for the night. It sounded like a pretty good deal right then.

Forgetting to keep up his story about parents and a home he didn't have, he nodded once towards the strange woman in front of him. She smiled and started walking. Neal caught up with her quickly and walked quietly beside her until they reached a pleasant looking house about half a block were everything had happened earlier. She stopped at the door and looked at him expectantly, but didn't say a word.

"My name is Nick Halden, by the way," he offered following her up the stairs.

She opened the door and turned back to invite him in.

"It's a pleasure Nick. I'm Elizabeth."

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Peter Burke walked towards his house. It was close to midnight and he was a bit surprised when he saw light coming from the window, but his uneasiness was quickly replaced by delight. He remembered that El was supposed to be working late tonight hosting a party and she had probably just arrived home. Good. He was starving and could use a quiet conversation and a snack with his wife.

When he got the call a few hours ago, he couldn't believe it. Caffrey had actually escaped Juvie! No one had seen him leave, and it wasn't until later when they went over the security tapes that they realized he had just walked out and no one had noticed. He'd been busy for the last 10 hours trying to find him, but the only thing they found was a discarded orange jumpsuit inside the food service truck. He'd decided to go home about half an hour ago, thinking about a warm bed and some advice from his wife. One thing was certain, Caffrey wouldn't be easy to find. He had some practice in the disappearing act area.

"Honey, I'm home" he called out when he stepped inside and started taking his coat off.

"Hi hon. I'm in the kitchen." He heard her shout back and saw Satchmo coming towards him with his tail wagging.

"Hey boy, what are you looking so pleased about?" he said softly as he rubbed behind the lab's ears.

Peter walked towards the kitchen and spotted Elizabeth in the sink rinsing some plates. He put his arms around her waist from behind and kissed her lightly in the neck.

"Mmm…" he hummed as he closed his eyes for a moment. El set down the plate she was holding and turned to give him a kiss.

"I missed you El." Peter murmured.

"I missed you too, hon. Long day? You look exhausted."

"Caffrey escaped today. You know, the kid I told you about the other day? He slipped out of Juvie and I've been trying to help them find him." Peter released her and turned to open the fridge to get some leftovers. He was starving. He put them in a plate and into the microwave.

"Well, he can't have gone too far. He'll turn up sooner or later Peter."

"I just hope he doesn't turn up dead in a ditch somewhere." He grabbed a fork and sat down in the dining table to eat. "How did your thing go tonight? Anything exciting happening in the world of event planning?"

"The party was quite a success actually. I got a few new contacts as well." She sat down beside him and fidgeted nervously with a coffee mug in her hand.

"El, is something wrong?" Peter knew El wasn't one prone to nervousness and she always told him when something wasn't all right.

"Actually Peter, something did happen," she started carefully, "someone tried to mug me tonight when I was walking from the car." Peter dropped his fork immediately and grabbed her hand.

"Are you okay? Did you call the police? Why didn't you call me?" He asked rapidly. Suddenly the warmth he had felt during the last minutes had evaporated, the feeling of helplessness and concern taking its place.

"No Peter. Don't worry, nothing even happened." Elizabeth tried to sound reassuring. "A man grabbed my arm and told me to give him my purse. I told him that he had to let me go and I'd give him the purse. He was getting fidgety when suddenly he let go. I turned around and saw that a teenage boy had yanked him towards some stairs and pushed him. He grabbed my hand and we ran away."

"So you're okay? The man didn't follow you?" Peter asked.

"I'm fine. We waited for a while and walked back towards the house, but the man was already gone." She paused for a second. "Nick saved my life, Peter."

"Nick?"

"Yeah, that's the name of the kid that came to my rescue."

Peter finally let Elizabeth's hands down and rubbed his face with his palms.  _Oh, this day just keeps getting better_ , he thought,  _now my wife was almost mugged_. He looked at his plate and realized he wasn't hungry anymore. He grabbed his beer and gave it a small sip. Suddenly he noticed that the table had two table settings. Two used dessert plates and two coffee mugs were still on the table. Someone else had been over for dinner.

"El, why are there two set of plates?" he asked.

Elizabeth didn't seem surprised. Peter thought she looked if she had been expecting the question since he came home. "Well, I invited Nick over for dinner. He looked tired and hungry. He's too thin Peter, and I don't think he had another place to stay tonight," she said getting up to finish cleaning. "I asked him to stay for the night and he said yes."

"You asked a complete stranger to dinner and to stay the night in our home? Where is he now?" Peter asked, his voice rising angrily.

Elizabeth was about to speak when they heard the door from the bathroom upstairs close and someone coming down the stairs. "He went to the bathroom."

Satchmo got up and turned towards the stairs happily, obviously going to greet the mysterious stranger in the stairs. Peter got up quickly and went after him.

\----------------

 

Neal finished splashing his face with water when he heard someone coming into the house and greeting Elizabeth.

 _That must be the husband,_  he thought.

Elizabeth had been wonderful. She'd welcomed him into her home, fed him, let him play with Satchmo, and had even provided him with a new toothbrush and some pajamas bottoms and a clean t-shirt from her husband. They were way too big, but they were the only things available and anything was better than prison clothing.

He hadn't really thought he would agree to stay here for the night. The original plan included having dinner and slipping quietly away later. Things hadn't gone quite as expected. Elizabeth was so warm. She sat him down and while she got the food ready and he petted Satchmo, they had talked about New York and the weather, about movies, books, and finally about art. She seemed pleasantly surprised at how much he knew about every topic they touched, and he'd been pleasantly surprised at how at home he felt when talking to her. Everything about the house, the dog, the conversation, the easy way in which she talked felt good. So when she'd asked if he'd consider staying for the night it wasn't hard to say yes. Her husband would be home in a little while, he'd been working late and Neal had excused himself to the bathroom so he would avoid the conversation and initial reaction. What man wanted to come home from work and hear that a complete stranger just had dinner with his wife and was staying the night in his house?

He sat down inside the bathtub for a little while to give them time to talk. Neal really hoped Elizabeth's husband would let him stay the night. The food had been incredible, but he needed rest and some pain killers wouldn't be too bad either. He'd looked around the bathroom, but hadn't found any pills. They probably had them in the kitchen. His body hurt and he'd been feeling a bit lightheaded since the incident with Elizabeth earlier.

That man had started pulling out a gun, if he hadn't stopped him in time Elizabeth could have been hurt… or dead.  _Don't go there, Neal, you know better…_

He put his arms around his legs and rested his forehead on his knees. He started rocking a little bit trying to distract himself and stop his mind from going places that shouldn't even exist anymore. He got up, tried to still his hands from shaking and stepped out.

Elizabeth and her husband had probably finished discussing him by know and he decided to make his way downstairs. He was halfway down when he stopped abruptly. He turned around to look at a picture hung up on the wall and let a small gasp escape him. There on the picture was Elizabeth, and whom he assumed to be her husband. They looked younger and happy and although she had stayed the same while he had aged, there was no mistaken who he was.

Special Agent Peter Burke.

Neal's mind processed the information rapidly and he felt an urge to run as fast as possible away from this place. He had to get out of this place. He continued down the stairs but he stopped abruptly when he saw Satchmo coming up to greet him and Peter Burke standing at the bottom of the stairs looking at him with an expression that made Neal cringe inside.

"Peter." Neal said a bit startled. "Small world, don't you think?"

Peter motioned for him to come down. "Imagine yourself coming home to your wife and finding a criminal having dinner with her and petting your dog!" Peter looked angry and Neal didn't think he muster up the courage for another joke so he remained quiet.

"Caffrey, what are you doing here? Did you know that Elizabeth was my wife?"

Neal walked down the stairs and made his way to the living room to sit in the couch. He wouldn't even try to run. It was pointless. "I swear Peter, I didn't know. Do you think I'd knowingly walk into an FBI agent's house after just escaping jail?"

Elizabeth made her way over to the living room with a puzzled look on her face. "Peter what's going on?" She turned to regard Neal. "Nick how do you know my husband?"

"His name isn't Nick, El. This is Neal Caffrey."

"You're Neal Caffrey?" she asked raising her eyebrows at Neal, who at least had the decency to look a bit embarrassed at having lied to her.

"Yes. I'm sorry I lied Elizabeth," he said quietly. He was feeling drained. The initial adrenaline from being discovered was slowly giving way to his feelings of exhaustion. It had been a long day, right now he couldn't even process the consequences of all that was happening. He was in Peter Burke's home. The FBI agent. He'd been made and his escape plans were officially down the drain.

"It's okay Neal," she said reassuringly. She turned to address her husband, "Peter, have you called anyone yet?"

"No."

"Good." She nodded. "Can I talk to you in the kitchen?"

"I don't think so El. I'm not leaving the kid alone here. The second he's out of my sight he'll run away." Peter reached over to his coat and took out his hand cuffs. "What's more, I think I should put these on as well, before he grabs something." He walked over to the couch and secured the cuffs around Caffrey's wrists.

"Peter, I really don't think those are necessary. If Neal wanted to steal anything or do any harm he would've done it before." Elizabeth sounded angry.

"Honey, he's a criminal. I'm not going to take any chances with him until I take him back to Juvie."

"Peter," Neal interrupted, "I promise I'll stay here with Satchmo. You should go and talk with your wife. She doesn't look too happy".

Peter looked at El and realized the kid had a point. She did look angry. "Don't move Caffrey. If you try to run, I'll find you." He followed his wife back into the kitchen.

"Peter, it's one am. Neal's tired, he won't run. You're seriously not considering sending him back to Juvie right now?" Her angry tone changed into a concerned one. "Neal saved my life. The man who was mugging me had a gun. If Neal hadn't been there..." She put her hands on his arms as she looked at him straight in the eyes. "Neal was running from Juvie. He could've been caught earlier. He saw the gun, he could have gotten hurt, and he still decided to help me. Peter, I know he's got to go back, but please, just let him stay tonight. He won't run."

Peter looked at her and tried to control his emotions. Caffrey suddenly didn't seem like the worst news he'd gotten today. His wife could have died. The kid had saved her life and if only for that fact, he could let him stay for the night. He'd take him back tomorrow in the morning.

"Okay El," he said, "he can stay the night."

Elizabeth's face lighted up and she grinned as she hugged him. "Thank you, Peter. I'll go tell him."

They both returned to the living room and found Neal sitting down in the same place where they've left him but Peter's handcuffs where gone and he was reaching down to pet Satchmo who had his head resting on one of his knees.

"Caffrey, you had to pick the cuffs?" Peter asked with a groan.

"At least I didn't run Peter, that's a plus." Neal responded with a smile.

"You can stay here for the night Neal," Elizabeth informed him happily.

"What happens to me tomorrow?"

"I'll take you back to Juvie, where you belong," Peter responded.

"Okay." Neal nodded slowly. There wasn't another way.

"Now, we should both go to bed. Elizabeth will kill us if we don't cooperate," Peter said.

She punched him playfully on the shoulder and addressed Neal. "You can come up with me Neal. I'll show you to the guest room I promised earlier. You already have the clothes I gave you?"

Neal nodded. "Thanks Elizabeth, but on second thought maybe I should just take the couch, less trouble for you."

"Nonsense Neal, it's no trouble at all. Come along then." Elizabeth made her way up the stairs and Neal rose awkwardly glancing at Peter as he followed her upstairs. Peter looked after him and noticed the kid had been walking a bit stiffly. He shook his head and went to the kitchen. Caffrey was a criminal, but that didn't mean he liked the idea of him in pain.

Elizabeth left Neal in the bathroom. He took off his clothes, folded them neatly, put on Peter's old PJs and went into the guest room. Elizabeth had put on fresh sheets and an extra blanket on top the bed.

"Good night Neal. Get some rest." He nodded and sat down on the bed.

"Thanks Elizabeth for everything. I just…just thank you for letting me stay."

"Thank you Neal. You saved my life and I truly enjoyed your company tonight." She gave him a little wink and a smile as she turned away and left his door half open.

Neal pulled up his legs and rested his body against the headboard of the bed. He closed his eyes for a moment and sat there thinking about what he would do tomorrow. How would he run from here? Peter would find him, he knew he would.

Neal didn't hear as someone approached him and placed a hand in his shoulder. He opened his eyes abruptly and flinched away from the hand. His eyes started moving rapidly trying to process what was going on. Peter quickly drew his hand back when he saw the boy in front of him recoiling.

"Hey, it's just me," he said, trying to calm him down.

"Peter…you startled me." Neal said trying to recover. He was not letting the agent see that he had been scared as hell for a second there.

"Sorry," said Peter awkwardly. Caffrey looked impossibly small and young in his old clothes, sort of like a small child playing dress up with his father's clothing. "I brought you some water and Ibuprofen. I…" he looked at the tired blue eyes staring back at him, "you look a bit sore and this pill will help." He set them in the nightstand and turned to leave.

"Wait," Neal called to him. "Thanks Peter."

Peter stopped at the door. "You should really call me Agent Burke you know. I don't we're that close to talk on a first name basis."

"Well, I had dinner with your wife, your dog likes me, and I'm staying the night at your house. I think that's an adequate enough relationship for me to call you by your first name."

"Yeah. You shouldn't. You're allowed to stay here for tonight because of my wife. I'm grateful that you saved her today, but I still have to take you back tomorrow. I work for the law, and you broke it. There are consequences for your actions, and don't even think about running tonight or in the morning. I'll know if you move a foot beyond this bedroom." Peter finished threatening him and turned to leave.

"You could call me Neal, you know?" he said softly.

"I don't think so. Good night Caffrey. Go to sleep," Peter replied. "And this door stays open."

"Sure. Good night  _Peter._ "

 


	5. Chapter 5

Peter woke up the next day to the sound of a car honking in the street. He turned around to snuggle close to Elizabeth. She wasn't there. Her side of the bed was empty and it looked like she had gotten up quite a while ago. Peter looked at the ceiling and tried to relax for a moment before he had to get up. He sat up abruptly in the bed when he remembered everything that had happened at midnight. Neal Caffrey. The kid had probably bolted from his house long ago. He would have a long day ahead trying to find him. He groaned and got up to take a shower and get dressed. He had slept late, it was already eight and he'd have to rush up a bit.

After he was ready for the day he passed the guest room and stopped at the door. Just as he'd expected, it was empty. The bed was perfectly made, the extra blanket and the clothes Elizabeth had lent the kid were folded neatly on top of the bed. Peter sighed and turned downstairs to look for El. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs when he heard laughter coming from the kitchen. He walked quickly to see what was going on and stumbled into a scene he would never have imagined. There in the middle of his kitchen sat Neal Caffrey on a stool chopping some fruit, with Satchmo at his feet, while his wife was making pancakes in the stove. They both looked at ease with one another and they seemed to be talking amicably over something.

Elizabeth saw him and said happily, "Morning hon. I hope we didn't wake you up. Neal and I were hungry and decided to get started on breakfast."

Peter turned to look at the kid who gave him a big smile. "Morning Peter."

Neal looked better. It was incredible what a bit of rest could do. It looked like he was moving less sluggishly as well.  _I guess those pills worked_ , Peter thought.

"Morning Caffrey." He sat down in front of him and started eating from a plate piled up with pancakes that El had put in front of him giving him a kiss in the process. Elizabeth set a similar plate in front of Neal and herself.

Peter ate in silence observing his wife and this kid talking about a certain chef program on tv and discussing how they would change a certain ingredient to add flavor or how some step in the process wasn't really necessary. Caffrey ate like there was no tomorrow. He devoured the pancakes in front of him and after that he started with the fruit. El put another equally large stack of pancakes in front of him and he started eating them without protest. Peter was secretly glad she was getting some food into him. El was right, he looked too thin. He guessed prison food must really be as bad as its reputation.

They finished eating and walked over to the living room. Neal had gone to the couch and had taken up petting Satchmo again. Peter hoped there was another option, and he knew El was already attached to the kid, but he had to go back today. The sooner the better. Less complications.

"Caffrey, we have to go now."

Neal kept petting the dog. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed the feel of the fur beneath his fingers. He liked how the animal seemed to accept who he was, without any judgment as to what he did. Satch liked him as a person and that was enough. It had been quite a long time since he'd allowed himself to touch another living thing. Apart from the beatings he'd gotten in Juvie, where he didn't even initiate contact, he hadn't really let himself touch or be touched by anyone.  _Satchmo is nice, though_ , he thought as he gave the lab a kiss on top of his head.

"Caffrey, did you hear me? I have to take you back now." Peter said looking directly at him.

"Right," Neal got up and plastered a conning smile on his face. "Thank you for everything Elizabeth. I'm glad I had the pleasure of your company."

Elizabeth turned towards him to give him a hug, but stopped herself when Neal stumbled backwards trying to avoid her touch. "I'm so glad I met you Neal, and thank you for coming to my rescue yesterday. Will you reconsider what we talked about?"

Neal smiled politely. "Sure, I'll give it some thought," he lied easily. There was no way he was even going to consider Peter's offer of help. He knew what he was going back to. He knew that the second he was in jail he'd be beaten up again, but he could not sell out Adler for nothing in return. It was too dangerous and he'd just get himself killed, like Kate… There had to be another way.

He walked to the door after Peter and stopped for a second to look back at Elizabeth.

"Everything will be okay Neal," she said trying to sound confident, but Neal was a con and he could spot a lie a thousand miles away. Everything wouldn't be okay.

"Yeah," he said noncommittally as he started after Peter. They both made it to the car and he got into the passenger's seat.

Neal didn't even know why he hadn't run the day before, why he wasn't running right now. He knew why he had helped Elizabeth. He didn't regret that for a second, but why had he stayed after Peter had gotten home yesterday? Why had he stayed in the morning before Peter woke up?

_Elizabeth._

She was the problem. He liked her. She was exactly the kind of woman he'd always wanted his mom to be. Not that his mom had ever treated him badly. His mom just hadn't been there for him. He shook his head trying to change that train of thoughts. Whatever had happened, he couldn't change it now.

He was on his way back to Crossroads.  _Back to hunger and coldness. Back to being a good for nothing waste of space. Back to pain._

He closed his eyes and breathed slowly in and out trying not to freak in front of Peter.

\----------------

 

 _Interrogation, check. Uncomfortable search, check. Medical exam, check. Horrible orange jumpsuit, check. One phone call, not used, check._ Neal went over the last day in his mind.

They'd explained the rules to him the first time he was here.

 _When moving through the building, you walk in a single line with your hands behind your back, without making noises or talking._   _Five thirty am - wake up and shower. Six forty five - breakfast. Eight thirty - school. One thirty: - lunch. Six - dinner. Nine thirty pm - lights out. Visiting hours: Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays from 2 to 5 pm._  The same things happened at the exact same time over and over again, every single day.

It had been a long day and he was back in the same cell he thought he'd never see again. He'd been surprised when the same day Peter had brought him in, he'd received a visit by Mozzie. It was his first one yet. Neal told him how he had gone looking for him. Mozzie said that there had been a contact number with some money in the bag he had sent but that people obviously couldn't be trusted, which was why he'd come himself from now on. Neal was relieved to hear it. After he recounted everything that had happened with the Burkes and how he ended up back in Juvie they had agreed to reconvene another day.

The next day, Mozzie visited Neal and told him that it would be tricky getting him out undetected again, but he was working on it. Neal reminded him about Keller and how it really couldn't wait. There had to be another way, maybe there was some legal way to get out of here? Mozz agreed to look into it and Neal was left alone again.

Two weeks passed by and Mozzie had been coming over every two days to talk to him and plan a new escape so it really wasn't a surprise when one afternoon they told him that he had a visitor.

It had been a relatively easy two weeks. Keller had left him alone for the most part. They weren't hitting him anymore, just stealing his food. Keller had started using another tactic. He was trying to provoke him. It hadn't worked yet, Neal failing to fall in their traps. Keller had so warmly informed him the day before that if he didn't play back they'd have to go to the original game. Time was running out.

He entered the common visit room and sat in his usual table in the corner. Keller and Dumbass where out there as well. They were seating in the table right across his and Neal tried to avoid their gaze by intently looking at his finger nails until Mozzie made his appearance. Somebody sat in front of him.

"It's about time Mozz, did you find-," Neal stopped short when he raised his eyes and saw who was sitting in front of him.

"Hello Neal. I guess you were expecting someone else."

Neal stared at Elizabeth Burke sitting in front of him and the feeling of warmth came back to him in a rush.  _Elizabeth._

"I'm sorry I didn't come to visit you earlier, but I had to talk Peter into the idea," she continued smiling at him.

Elizabeth looked at the boy in front of her and couldn't help wondering what was going on here. He looked even thinner than two weeks ago. She remembered the starved teenager that had ravished everything that was put in front of him. The progress they made after that night was gone as well. He looked tired again. Tired, hungry, and unhappy, everything a teenager shouldn't be. She had an urge to hug him, to take his hand in hers and try to convey her feelings, but Neal had removed his hands from the table when he saw her. She recalled that he didn't like to be touched. Peter had mentioned it as well.

"So, Neal, how have you been?" she asked, managing to sound as normal as possible.

"Elizabeth, what are you doing here?" Neal asked lowering his voice and looking over her shoulder to another table with two older looking boys.

"I wanted to see how you were doing. The reports they send to Peter are not very informative." Neal wasn't paying much attention to her, he still looked uncomfortable and Elizabeth started to wonder if Peter was right and she had no business visiting him.

"Elizabeth, it's wonderful to see you, but this really isn't the place for a reunion. Peter was right, you shouldn't be here," he said rapidly almost whispering. He saw her face drop and hated himself for treating her like this, but he had to make sure that she would leave unharmed. If he was going to be here for some time then it was probably better if she just forgot about him.

"Neal, who's the pretty lady?"

Both El and Neal looked in the direction of the voice. It was an older looking boy with a crooked smile who talked with a strange accent.

"What Neal," he continued, "you're not going to introduce us?"

"Stay away Keller. She's no one. In fact, she was just leaving." Neal's voice had turned strong and icy.

He rose and circled the table to stand slightly in front of Elizabeth, blocking her from the other boy. He grabbed her hand without hesitation and pulled her up. El stood without really knowing what was going on. There was a sense of danger surrounding this 'Keller'. Neal probably knew him or felt the danger himself, because he hadn't let go of her hand. She could feel how cold it was and how it was shaking a little bit.

"She looks like you. Is she your mom?" Keller paused. "Wait, of course she's not. Your mom's dead," he sneered. "Another relative perhaps? Your aunt?" Neal had stiffened at the mention of his mom but he didn't let go of her hand.

"Look,  _Keller_ , it's really none of your business, if you're waiting for someone I suggest you go back to your table or I'm going to call the guards and tell them to take you away," Elizabeth said loudly trying to hide her distaste for him.

"Mmm… I don't think she's family at all," Keller continued ignoring Elizabeth's warning. "Are you fucking her? She's hot. You like older bitches, Caffrey?"

Neal had been trying to control himself, but he couldn't do it anymore. Elizabeth shouldn't be here. She should never be spoken to like that. He wasn't violent by nature, but if the only way to get Elizabeth out of there was doing what Keller wanted, then that's what he'd do.

Neal let go of her hand and launched himself at Keller. He caught him straight in the jaw, but that was exactly what Keller wanted. He turned to punch Neal in the gut and Elizabeth gasped as Neal doubled over but remained standing up. The room was chaotic and loud, the other inmates shouting over at Neal and Keller.

Four guards came in and went straight for them. El watched with shock when a big officer kicked Neal from behind and Neal dropped down like a rag doll, his head slamming against the concrete floor. The officer then climbed on top of him and turned him around to handcuff him.

Other officers had started ushering the prisoners back into the hall and the visitors out of the room in an effort to stop the commotion. Elizabeth found herself being ushered outside. Still not believing what was going on she turned to catch a final glimpse of Neal but what she saw made her wish she hadn't. He was lying face down limply in the floor, arms cuffed behind him. He seemed to be having trouble breathing and was still shaking. She caught his eyes but there was no recognition on his part. His eyes were completely glazed over.

\------------------

 

The first thing Elizabeth did when she got back into her car was call her husband. She was angry and scared and everything that had happened was inexcusable. She closed her eyes and saw Neal smiling and talking to her about art and books and petting Satchmo. She speed dialed 1 with a shaking hand and someone answered on the other side.

"Peter, take him out. Now."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last scene was based on an episode of The O.C.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've used some dialogue from the show in this and future chapters.

Peter had had a difficult time trying to calm down Elizabeth after her visit with Caffrey. He listened to everything that happened and sighed. Of course she was right. Caffrey didn't belong in there. He'd waited a day for things to cool off and decided to visit the kid to see if he had changed his mind.

Neal looked awful. He had a big bruise in the right side of his head and he was limping slightly, but trying to hide it.

"Peter. So good of you to come," Neal said sitting in front of him.

"I came to see if you hadn't escaped again, after what El told me," Peter said.

Neal shifted uncomfortably in the bench. "You really shouldn't have let your wife come here Peter. This is no place for Elizabeth and I think it would be better if you don't let her come again."

Peter gave him a perplexed look. This kid was a walking contradiction. Peter didn't think any other person would care about someone they hardly knew. A criminal certainly wouldn't care about the wife of an FBI agent. He wondered if the connection Caffrey had towards his wife was something he had ever felt before.

Neal had brought out a folder and put it in front of Peter. "I'm glad you're here Peter. I've been doing some research and I think I've found a way I could help you out." He pointed to a picture in the folder. "Ankle monitor for supervised release. I'm too much of a risk for outright release or probation, but I can be placed on supervised release rather than in secure detention."  _In other words, I'll get the hell away from this place,_  Neal thought.

"I've researched this. I could wear the GPS tracking anklet within an allowed radius and I have to be back where I'm staying by curfew. These are tamper- resistant and it signals you and the police if there are tampering attempts. It's never been skipped on." Neal beamed at Peter hopefully.

"Where would you be staying, Caffrey? A foster home? They've tried that before and you ran away the first second you had a chance. I'm not even sure they take in criminals."

"They have to, Peter."

"You'd still be with other criminal kids?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't get in trouble Peter. I'd just help you catch my old boss and stay out of the way."

"Is this the only way you'll help the FBI? If I get you out of here?" Peter asked.

Caffrey nodded. Peter stood up and Neal looked expectantly up at him.

"Sorry. Nice try Caffrey." Neal's face dropped in a second.

"I don't trust you." Peter said simply and started walking towards the exit.

"That's smart. I wouldn't trust me either," Neal said under his breath as he got up and walked back towards the door.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter spent the next two days looking into Neal's suggestion. It basically came down to a place where the kid could stay. The FBI was willing to push a judge into allowing the anklet if Neal helped them close the case. The only problem was that no one wanted to take him in.

Peter looked into both sides of Neal's family and could only come up with that one aunt mentioned in all the files, his mother's sister, Ana. He drove all the way to New Jersey to talk to her and he got laughed at. She had two jobs, her husband had two jobs, and they had two kids. There was no way she could take him in. She wouldn't take him when his mom died and she definitely wouldn't take him now that he was a felon. Peter tried to explain that Neal was cooperating, and that he wasn't remotely violent. Ana seemed to believe quite strongly that the kid was just a criminal 'like the good for nothing parasite her sister had married.'

And that was that. There were no other relatives and Peter was kind of relieved. He didn't think he'd stand another person throwing the kid away like yesterday's trash.

After that lovely encounter with Caffrey's aunt, he had tried speaking with different judges, social workers, and foster homes, but he didn't have any luck. Caffrey couldn't be placed in another foster home. He ran away before, and now he had a three year sentence before him. Peter had submitted the papers to see if they could find him foster parents but it was very unlikely. There were a lot of other kids that had priority over a criminal teenager.

Peter had gone back to talk to Neal the next day and explained that his chances of getting out weren't good. The boy just shrugged after he told him about his aunt.

"I don't blame her. Why would anyone want a screwed up kid like me?" Neal answered after Peter had finished talking.

"That's not true Caffrey. It's just hard to place you somewhere, but I'll keep trying."

Both knew they were empty words.

They sat quietly for a while and Peter regarded the kid with concern. Caffrey didn't let a single emotion play on his face.

"I'm fine Peter," said Neal after a few seconds. "Go home to Elizabeth."

Peter couldn't reply anything. What was there to say? He hated this. Without a place to stay, there wasn't anything he could do for Neal.  _And when did he become Neal and not Caffrey?_  He had to remember that the boy was caught with two million dollars in stolen paintings.

_But he doesn't deserve all of this,_  he thought.

Peter reluctantly got up to leave. "I'm really sorry kid."

 

 

* * *

 

 

Peter and Elizabeth lied side by side in their bed. They were looking at each other in the moonlight coming from the window.

"Why are you overthinking this Peter?" Elizabeth asked. Peter had tried to get Neal out, but no place to stay meant no deal.

"I don't know El," Peter sighed. "It's not supposed to work this way. It just shouldn't be this easy. He did something wrong, he's supposed to pay the price. I can't help thinking that this anklet thing is just his next escape plan."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "You think Neal escaped Juvie, saved my life, and then got himself beaten up defending me just so he could trick you into getting him out?"

"It's a working theory."

"Yeah, keep working on it."

Elizabeth took her husband's hand in her own. "Peter, we can't let him stay in there. You know it and I know it. This is the only way."

Peter closed his eyes. Of course she was right. She was always right.

"Why is it so hard for you to believe he'll do the right thing?" she asked.

Peter smirked. "Let's just say that's not his first instinct."

"Trust isn't yours."

"Occupational hazard," he paused and rubbed his neck. "I just like to know I can trust in something."

"I know you do, but sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith." Elizabeth reached over with her hand and caressed her husband's face lovingly.

She loved him more than anything in this world. He was a good man. He was a man that believed in doing good things and second chances. There was no doubt in her mind that he would do the right thing now. He cared about Neal too. She had seen him worrying about the boy every single day since he met him. He had researched and talked relentlessly to social workers, judges, and even Reece in the last few weeks. Peter didn't like to admit it, but the real problem behind his indecision might be that he cared too much about what happened to Neal.

"Hon," she said after some minutes of silence. "He ran before, but it was different. We'll be here for him now."

"I'm not sure that will make much of a difference," said Peter doubtfully.

"I'm sure. It'll make all the difference in the world." She nuzzled closer to him and settled down for sleep. It was late and they both had a long day ahead tomorrow.

"El, I love you." Peter whispered into the night after a long time.

"Mmm…love  _you_ ," she whispered back, startling Peter who had thought she had fallen asleep. Peter's heart swelled with pleasure at her words, and his thoughts turned towards Neal again. He didn't trust the boy, but he was going to give him a chance. He tried to quiet his thoughts and went to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

It had taken three days to finish arraigning everything. Peter had made his way to Crossroads that same night as soon as they had giving him the anklet. When he got there they informed him that Neal had been placed in solitary confinement ever since the day El had visited him. They had conveniently left that information out of the reports they sent him. The director insisted that it hadn't been a punishment but a precaution.  _Precaution my ass_ , Peter thought making his way towards the solitary cell. They were taking it out on the kid because he had given them the slip and escaped. It was that other guys, Keller and his "friends", that deserved the punishment, but Neal seemed to have a supernatural power to attract trouble. His complete lack of self-preservation and consequence didn't help either.

Peter was sure that the solitary rooms weren't supposed to be legal anymore. They were harsh punishments, especially for someone like Neal. The CO that walked in front of him stopped in front of a door and addressed him.

"You came to take Neal out?"

"Yes. He's making a deal with the FBI."

"That's good. I…" he hesitated. "It's just, this place isn't right for the kid. I sort of talked to him when he was here, you know, before, and he was always so…polite. Now, he…he hasn't been… eating right… He hasn't been talking."

Peter frowned and couldn't shake the sick feeling forming rapidly in the pit of his stomach. He stepped inside the room and the door closed behind him. Neal was in that awful orange jumpsuit sitting in his bed on the corner of the room. He was leaning to the right, his back resting on one wall and his head on the other. He was looking straight ahead and didn't move or acknowledge Peter as he approached him and sat down in the bed.

"Caffrey, get up, I'm getting you out of here." Peter said steadily.

Neal did nothing. He kept staring at the wall in front of him and Peter's concern went up another notch.

He tried again. "Caffrey, its Agent Burke. I've got you the deal with the anklet, your social worker was supposed to tell you two days ago."

Nothing.

Peter moved closer to the boy to look at him in the eyes. There was no sign of recognition. Peter was distressed. He had never seen Neal this quiet, this…still. Neal was unresponsive. His body was limp, but on closer examination Peter noticed that his hands were shaking slightly. It looked like an involuntary reflex, like it was something his body was doing but his mind couldn't control.

Peter knew that Neal didn't like to be touched, but maybe that's what he needed to come back from wherever he was. He reached over and grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him a little bit.

"Caffrey, what's wrong?"

Peter was getting scared now. Neal didn't even flinch at his touch.

_What the hell is wrong with the kid?_

"Neal," he said desperately. "Neal. It's Peter."

At those words, the boy finally seemed to come back to reality. He roused slowly and started blinking rapidly; trying to understand what was going on. He stopped shaking immediately and smiled when he met Peter's worried eyes.

"Peter," he said smoothly. "What are you doing here?"

He shook off Peter's hand from his shoulder and sat up in the edge of the bed. Peter was baffled. What had just happened? Neal sat completely alert in front of him. A moment ago he had been near comatose. Did he even remember what had been going on?

"Are you okay?" he asked carefully.

Neal gave him an annoyed look and responded quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Peter kept staring apprehensively at Neal. The boy might have fooled him another time, but not after what he had just witnessed. Peter decided to let it go for now. He would find out later what was wrong with the kid from the Juvie doctor.

"They didn't tell you I was coming?"

Neal shook his head.

"I told them to let you know two days ago. I had to wait for the anklet but the deal was already confirmed," Peter continued, trying to explain everything as clearly as possible. "I'm taking you out of here. You'll wear the anklet and help me and the FBI solve the case."

"I guess one of those foster houses finally agreed to take me in?" Neal asked.

"No. They didn't. You'll be staying with El and me."

Neal let his mask drop for a second and looked stunned. "I'm going to live in your house?"

"Yep," Peter replied.

"I'm living with Elizabeth and you,  _in your house_?" Neal eyes dropped to study the floor. "Peter, are you sure that's what you want to do? I mean, I'm not…" Neal paused, not knowing how to continue. "I'll probably…"

"Caffrey, you'll live with us and you'll be fine." Peter said sturdily.

"I'll live with you," Neal repeated, slowly rolling each word in his mouth. "I can do that."

Neal tried to get up quickly and the room started spinning. He felt his legs giving out and sat down again. Peter moved to try and help him, but Neal held up a hand to keep him away. "I'm fine Peter, just a bit dizzy."

Peter backed away and regarded Neal thoroughly from head to toes. After a few seconds he addressed Neal again.

"On second thought, I think I'll leave you here for a little while."

Neal's head snapped up immediately, his eyes incredibly large. "What?" he said quietly.

_What the hell is Peter talking about? Didn't he just say that I could go with him?_

Neal could tell it was going to happen. He felt it coming miles away. He always felt it coming. No one could see him like this. No one should see him like this, but Peter was standing right in front, and he didn't think he could hide it this time. His breathing was getting faster and he could feel his heart pounding.

Peter had changed his mind about taking him. He knew it. He should be able to tell by now when people are lying. Suits just don't take criminals home. What was he going to do here?

_I'll be alone again…_

Peter was leaning over, holding Neal's right shoulder, and talking to him. Neal couldn't hear a word that he was saying. What was going on? He felt the impulse to run, but there was nowhere to go. The room was spinning again and his body felt numb.

_Please not again, please… please, please…breathe. Breathe, Neal, breathe…_

"Neal, breathe." Peter's voice finally made it through the haze.

Peter had no idea what had gone wrong. He had been trying to tell Neal that he would leave him in the room for a few minutes while he talked to the Crossroads doctor. He wanted a full medical report on Neal before they left. Something was wrong with him, the unresponsiveness, the dizziness, and now this.

_Something is wrong._

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

"Breathe, buddy..."

Neal raised his head and tried to say something but he could only keep on trying to catch his breath. Peter banged on the door and called for the guard. He grabbed Neal and lifted him up in his arms. The kid was light as a feather and Peter could feel the small bumps of his spine.

The guard opened the door and Peter went through immediately, carrying Neal.

"Where's the infirmary?"

The big guy took one look at Neal in Peter's arms and started off without a word down the corridor. They went through five doors until they finally made it to the infirmary. Neal had gone completely limp a few minutes ago and had closed his eyes, but at least he was breathing normally now.

He placed Neal carefully in a hospital bed in the middle of a room and brushed the kid's hair out of his eyes carefully. He stepped away when an older man came into the room and went directly to Neal. He checked his pulse, watched his pupillary response, listened to his heart and lungs and finally turned around to address Peter.

"He'll be fine."

Peter released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.  _The kid will be okay._

"What happened to him?" Peter asked.

"Excuse me, but I can't discuss Mr. Caffrey's medical information with you," the doctor replied dryly.

"I'm Special Agent Peter Burke, FBI. I came to take Caffrey out of here. I'm in charge of him now." He took a folded paper from his jacket and handed it over to the other man.

"I see," the man said going over to his desk at the end of the room. Peter followed him, reluctantly leaving Neal behind in the bed.

"Mr. Caffrey has been in Crossroads for little over a month and he hasn't had a very good record here. He's been in the infirmary four times, but the guards didn't bring him in because of the beatings." Peter didn't interrupt him and he continued explaining. "You see, Mr. Caffrey tends to faint after panic attacks. It's not very common but it tends to happen, especially with kids and teenagers."

"He gets panic attacks?" Peter asked surprised.

"I've come to the conclusion that Mr. Caffrey has suffered them for quite a while, even before he came into Crossroads. He hasn't offered any information on the topic, but it looks like he knows what is going on and tries to hide it. Panic attacks are periods of intense fear or apprehension that are of sudden onset and of relatively brief duration. They begin abruptly and reach a peak within 10 minutes. They are intensely frightening, upsetting and uncomfortable. He feels faint, sometimes nauseated." The doctor paused and reached for a folder in his desk and started going through it while he talked to Peter.

"Mr. Caffrey's breathing and heart beat get faster. The attacks commonly include trembling, hot and cold flashes, sweating, dizziness, shortness of breath, tingling or numbing sensations in his hands, difficulty moving and derealization. Panic attacks are frequently due to predisposed genetics, but significant causes like the kind of emotional drama Mr. Caffrey has suffered has done nothing to help him. He won't get better because he won't talk about anything that's happened to him," he finished, taking off his glasses and looking at Peter in the eyes.

"So, how often do they happen?" Peter asked.

"Agent Burke, you need to understand that Mr. Caffrey is very resilient. He never complains and never tells anyone he's not doing well. His charm is the biggest part of the walls he puts up, but he's still a kid. When he gets anxious or stressed he gets panic attacks. When things are too much to handle, his mind has learned to shut down. He goes somewhere else. He avoids pain completely."

Peter looked back at Neal's small frame in the bed. "I'll be taking him home with me today," he said authoritatively. "What am I supposed to do if this happens again?"

"You really can't do much. There are some breathing exercises, but mainly you should just be there for him. Give him a reason to come back. Try to get him to talk to you. I think part of the problem is he's never opened up before and the situation hasn't been ideal for him to get over this."

"I understand." Peter got up. "I'll take all of Caffrey's records with me. Doctor?"

"Dr. Powell. You may take Mr. Caffrey now. He'll wake up when he's ready."

 

* * *

 

 

Peter looked at the boy sleeping beside him in his car. He had just parked in front of his house and had turned to look at Neal in the passenger seat. El wouldn't be pleased if he brought in Neal in this state.

He sighed and looked out the window. The kid needed them more than he had thought at first. He had noticed the flinches and the shortness of breath before. Now he knew why it happened. He had panic attacks. Not only had Neal never mentioned it but he hadn't said anything about how hard it had been in Juvie either.

Based on what he had read in the records Dr. Powell had provided, it was some kind of personal grudge between that Keller guy and Neal. It looked like he was the reason Neal was too thin as well. The friendly guard that had accompanied him inside Crossroads had told him later that Neal hadn't gotten a single break from Keller and his goons in all his time there. They liked to steal his food. Neal hadn't complained to anyone.  _If he had said something to me I could have done something,_ Peter thought a bit guiltily. Neal hadn't said anything, but he should have figured it out. He should have protected him.

Peter tried to remember what he had been like when he was fifteen. That year he'd been worried about school and about getting a place in the baseball team. His dad had helped him practice every day that summer after he came home from work. They had stayed outside and played until the sun went down and his mom called them in for dinner. He smiled. His childhood had been a good one. Neal's on the other hand –

"Peter."

He turned around to see that Neal had finally woken up and was looking around trying to get his bearings. Neal surveyed outside and finally settled back into his seat. "We're at your place."

"Hey kid, you had me worried there for a minute." He paused. "So, you have panic attacks." It was a statement not a question.

Neal plastered in a fake smile quickly. "They're not that serious, Peter. It just happens when I haven't had enough sleep or feel a bit stressed," Neal said trying to play down what had actually happened.

"What happened to you in there? Did you really think I was going to leave you after I just said that I would bring you home with me? I wouldn't joke about something like that. You have to know that kid."

"I don't know what happened. I guess I'm just tired." Of course he was tired, but he had also been scared. He had been scared of being left behind once more. He was scared that Peter couldn't trust him enough and decided he wasn't worth the trouble. He was here now, though.

"Common, let's get inside. Elizabeth has been waiting impatiently for you." Peter got out and walked around the car while Neal stirred to get out as well.

He felt it for the first time. Someone must have changed his clothes because he was dressed in comfortable Dockers and a button down shirt. He lifted his pants on his left leg carefully and inspected what was beneath it. The tracking anklet was secured to his ankle and had a small bright green light indicating it was activated and he was within his radius.

_Beats Juvie,_  he thought as he followed Peter to his new accommodations.

 

* * *

 

 

Elizabeth and Satchmo had welcomed him wholeheartedly. She had made him a special dinner. He tried to eat, but he had practically been starving himself for the last few days and he couldn't think he could keep everything inside if he ate too much. So he politely complemented her cooking but had only managed to eat a little bit. Peter had been mysteriously quiet during dinner. He hadn't mentioned what happened to his wife and he hadn't said anything to Neal either. He seemed content on keeping quiet, so Neal let him and talked with Elizabeth.

After dinner, she had taken him up to the guest room and Neal was surprised to see that she had added some things. There was a small television in a corner, a writing desk with a small lamp and a laptop on top. The bed had blue and grey sheets and a new comforter. There were stacks of books arranged in shelves in the wall.

She opened the closet and showed him where she had put some clothes she bought. There were new socks, underwear, pajamas, regular clothes, a new pair of shoes, and deodorant and all the bathroom implements he needed.

"I bought some things for you, but I'll take you shopping tomorrow so you can pick up some other things you might want. There are new towels in the bathroom."

"Thank you Elizabeth, but I think everything here is more than enough. I don't really want anything else." Neal felt uncomfortable. Apart from Mozzie, no one had ever really taken care of his needs before. No one had cared.

"Don't be silly Neal, of course you need more things than these." She gave him a mischievous smile and added, "Plus, I really love shopping." Neal had laughed at her words.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day Peter stood looking at the boy sleeping peacefully in the guest room.  _I guess its Neal's room now_ , he thought. The kid looked tired and he hadn't moved positions all night. Peter had checked on him six times during the night and Neal hadn't stirred once. It was Saturday, and he didn't have to go to work. His wife had sat down with him to breakfast and he had told her everything that had happened yesterday. He explained Neal's panic attacks and his weird fainting spells. It was some kind of defense mechanism. When things where too much, he protected himself. He removed himself from the situation.

El was upset at the news. She recalled her visit to Juvie and the way Neal had slumped down and done that same unresponsive thing when she had left. There must be another way for him to deal with things, and she resolved that they would do everything necessary to help him.

 

* * *

 

 

Neal woke up very late that day. He turned to look at the alarm clock in the nightstand and was startled when he saw that it was almost one in the afternoon. Had he really slept for more than twelve hours? Why hadn't Peter or Elizabeth woken him up?

After making his bed and grabbing a shower, Neal made his way downstairs and caught Peter and Elizabeth having lunch. He greeted them and he sat down in the third place set on Peter's right and helped himself to some food.

"So, Peter, when do we have to start work?" Neal said after offering Elizabeth a broad smile.

"We start on Monday. I have to take you in for a statement on the heist you pulled off and any information you might have. After that, you'll help us figure out where to find whoever is behind this. You'll stay here with us until we solve the case."

"What happens when we catch him?" Neal asked.  _What happens to me?_

"I don't know. I'll do everything I can so they don't put you back in." Peter responded.

"But?"

"But I can't do anything if you screw up. If you run again, you're back in for good."

Neal nodded. He hadn't expected anything less.

"You'll have to go to school too." Elizabeth informed him.

"School? I haven't been there in a long time."

"We talked to the High School Principal. You'll have to take a test and then they'll decide where to put you. Neal, that's one of the conditions of the arrangement. It won't be too bad." Elizabeth didn't seem too concerned, but Neal thought otherwise.

He had probably learned more in the past few years than he would ever had learned in school. Mozzie taught him to play chess, gave him hundreds of books, took him to museums, bought him art supplies, and cultivated his mind. Neal wasn't sure he was ready to go back to school.

"Neal, it'll be okay. I think you'll like school. How long has it been?" she asked cautiously.

"Almost four years," he admitted reluctantly.

Elizabeth tried not to think of the reasons Neal hadn't gone to school. Where had he lived for four years? Who did an eleven year old turn to in the streets? Peter seemed to think he had someone outside, a friend who had helped him escape. She hoped that his friend had really taken care of the boy. Despite all of Neal's nonchalance and charm she couldn't help but think of him as a lost boy.

 

* * *

 

 

It was early next day when Neal heard a noise in his window. He got up and opened the window as noiselessly as possible. He saw a pigeon sitting in his window still and he promptly picked it up to remove the rolled up paper in the bird's leg.

_McGolrick Park Shelter Pavilion. 6._

–  _M._

_Mozzie._  It was 5:30 in the morning. He had 30 minutes to get out undetected and get to the park. He'd be in trouble if the Burkes found out, but he could make it back before they woke up. It was Sunday, they would probably sleep late. He dressed up quickly and made his way outside through the window. He climbed down carefully and landed in the back yard. He jumped over the back wall and walked quickly down the street.

Neal approached the meeting place and looked at the time in the new watch Elizabeth had bought him yesterday.  _5:50 am_. He still had some time, Mozzie was incredibly punctual but he would never make an appearance before the appointed hour. Neal sat down on a bench in the empty park and waited for his friend.

Yesterday had been nice. Elizabeth had made him choose more clothes and he had gotten his usual formal pants and button down dress shirts, turtle necks and polo shirts. She had also gotten him the wrist watch, a new phone, and art supplies. Elizabeth had looked surprised at Neal's request for those last items and Neal had been surprised that he had even asked. Everything else had been chosen at Elizabeth's insistence, but the art supplies were the only things he actually wanted.

"Illusory freedom  _suits_  you kid."

Neal turned around excitedly and smiled when he saw his weird friend leaning against one of the Pavilion columns. He made his way over and embraced him tightly.

"Mozz."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had some experience with pain attacks, but not panic attacks. Some of the symptoms are similar, and you can definitely tell when an attack is coming. After a while you start to fear them happening or somehow triggering them.
> 
> Also, I don't really know if McGolrick Park is in Neal's radius. I just know it's in Brooklyn and it looked nice in the photos I googled. So, if it isn't close, for the sake of the story, just pretend it is ;)


	8. Chapter 8

Mozzie stood still watching as Neal made his way to the meeting place. He had been waiting for him and was glad that the kid still had enough skills to elude the Suit for a rendezvous. He walked at a delicate pace and never got to anywhere before the allotted time, but he'd made an exception so he could observe his young friend arrive.

Neal looked a bit pale, his bruises where fading, and his tired face and slow movements didn't escape his notice. The kid might be able to con everyone else, but not him. Not when he'd seen him at his worse. Contemplating the state of his young companion brought back to memories of how Neal looked when he had first met him. He always looked so sick back then.

Mozzie had found Neal nearly four years ago. He had been trying to locate a person and had been searching underground in some unpleasant neighborhoods. Neal had been crashing in an abandoned building where homeless people usually gathered. Mozzie hadn't taken notice of him immediately, but his interest had spiked when he saw him picking pockets around the park he usually worked in. The kid was good, so he followed him back one day. He approached him and after some deliberation on Neal's part they started working together. Mozzie needed an astute and ingenious companion in crime and Neal needed to eat. It was a win-win situation. The boy did superb work and didn't complain about anything.

After a few weeks, Mozzie got to their usual meeting place and found Neal drawing on a used up notebook. He was amazed at the potential and decided it was time to take the kid out of the hellhole he was living in. He offered him a place to stay, but Neal declined the offer. So, Mozzie left him alone. It had been about a month since their first meeting, when he found the kid, sitting with his backpack, waiting for him. Neal didn't mention how he had gotten the horrible bruises in his face and Mozzie didn't ask. He took the kid home with him that day.

It was easy living with Neal. The boy had been living alone for six months and was very independent. He was also so charming that for the first time Mozzie didn't mind living with someone else. Eventually, they got into a routine. Mozzie gave him books, taught him card tricks, street scams, and how to forge paintings and bonds. They went to museums, played chess, and cultivated their minds. The kid was smarter than anyone he had ever met before.

Neal slowly got his health back and he stopped getting sick that often after some months with him, but he didn't let anyone touch him. Mozzie recalled how it took such a long time to get in, to really get past Neal's defenses. It had been hard work. Neal never talked about his past. When they first met he just told him his parents were dead. Mozzie didn't ask him anything else, but he eventually put together what had happened, and a long time after that, Neal finally confided the truth to him. By mutual understanding they never talked about it again.

The panic attack frequency had been starling at first. The first time Neal almost got caught stealing Mozzie thought the kid was dying. He stood in an alley holding the unresponsive boy in his arms and it scared the crap out of him. That was the first panic attack he witnessed, but it wasn't the last one. After a while he learned to help Neal breathe and control de panic. Mozzie understood what happened in Neal's life, why the kid was the way he was. He understood why the panic attacks happened, but it was still hard to watch the kid go through them and not being able to do anything beyond being there for him.

Mozzie shook his head trying to get the horrible images of his young friend suffering from his mind. Whatever had happened in the last few days, he did look better than when he had found him that first time. He looked at the time again and made his way over to Neal.

"Restricted freedom  _suits_  you kid."

 

* * *

 

 

"Mozz," Neal said making his way towards him with a smile. He gave the man a tight hug and looked him over. Mozzie was twenty eight years old, but he looked a bit older. What little hair he still had was cut short. He wore quirky glasses and a scarf around his neck.

"How are you man? I couldn't believe when I found out you were going to live with the Man."

"I'm fine, Mozz. Apparently I'm the Bureau's latest charity case."

"Let me see it then." Mozzie and Neal moved over to a bench and the man sat down while the boy lifted his pants to reveal the anklet underneath.

Mozzie shook his head. He took something out of his pocket and handed it to Neal. "Here, there's a different phone number for every day of the week on speed dial. Use it if you need to contact me."

"Thanks Moz." Neal pocketed the phone and started pacing in front of the bench. Mozzie waited for him to say something.

"I need to get this thing off me," Neal said after a while.

"You're lucky Neal, two miles is a lot in New York City."

"Can you get it off?"

Mozzie looked at the boy in front of him and shook his head again. "I can't, mon frère. You've flied too close to the sun and burned your wings."

"Can you just keep working on it? I don't think I'll be able to stay here for long."

"The Suit and his wife treating you okay?" asked Mozzie apprehensively.

"Yeah, the Burkes, they are good people, but I have to watch my back. I just can't stay here. You know why."

"Adler. He'll be looking for us." Neal nodded.

Vincent Adler was a problem. The man was powerful and dangerous. They first met him about two years ago. Kate, Mozzie, and Neal had started working on forgeries for him. The pay was good and it consisted of very straightforward jobs, until about a year ago. Adler had started looking actively for an amber music box. Things had gotten exponentially more dangerous when he commissioned for them to steal the music box. They had done big jobs before, but nothing like breaking into an Italian Consulate. They did it though; they got the music box, handed it to Adler and tried walking away afterwards. It didn't work. Adler had gone quiet about the music box, but he still expected them to continue with his series of forged paintings and thefts. Then, Neal had been caught and Kate…

"What happened, Mozz?" Neal lifted his head and gave him a pained look. "What happened to Kate?"

Mozzie dropped his gaze. He knew this was coming. They hadn't talked about it while Neal was in Juvie, but he had seen the desperation and pain in the kid's eyes when he first told him that his girlfriend had been killed.

"She's gone, man."

Neal sat down beside him on the bench and put his head in his hands.

"After that last job everything went to hell. You were caught and Kate and I tried to disappear but I didn't get to her in time. Adler's men found her… It was quick, she didn't suffer... I'm really sorry Neal."

"Yeah," Neal said quietly. "I just, I should never have left her alone. I should never have let her work with us. She got killed because of me…"

"Hey kid, that's not true. You know it's not and you can't blame yourself."

Neal looked the other way and remained quiet. Mozzie knew what he was thinking. The kid had serious abandonment and trust issues. All his hard work during the past years trying to get him to trust someone seemed to have gotten a giant setback after the last few months. Neal had all his walls back up. It was his way to survive.

"Neal, you didn't leave her, and she didn't leave you willingly, okay? She loved you man."

"Yeah, Mozz," he repeated, "I know."

Mozzie looked at his watch one more time and noticed almost an hour had passed. The kid better get going if he wanted to get back unnoticed.

"You should get back Neal." Neal nodded and stood up.

"What's going to happen? Does Adler know where I am?" Neal asked.

"No word on the street yet. You're safe for now. Just stay out of trouble. If something comes up I'll take care of it." Neal looked skeptical but he trusted Mozzie. Well, he trusted him as much as he'd ever trusted anyone.

"Meet me here, same time tomorrow." Mozzie got up, put his hat on and turned to leave.

"I'll see what I can find out about the anklet. Take care, kid."

 

* * *

 

 

Life with the Burkes was easy, kind of his life with Mozzie, but very different at the same time. Neal felt a sense of security and authority like he never had before. He had been with Peter and Elizabeth for two weeks now. He had managed to build up his walls as high as possible. He had taken precautions. They might be good people, they might treat him better than anyone else, but he just couldn't let them in… This was not permanent. Peter and Elizabeth weren't his parents. They would take him back, this was temporary…this, whatever this was, couldn't last. No one ever lasted. No… there was no way he could let them in….

His job in the FBI so far had consisted in acting as a snitch. He'd told them practically everything he knew about Adler and his operations. He'd told them everything with the exception of the music box. They had agreed with Mozzie that the music box was too much trouble.

Neal had been sneaking away almost every day in the morning to meet Mozzie in the same park they used the first time. They were in the middle of a discussion one morning when they heard someone clearing his throat behind them.

They both turned around to look at Peter Burke.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All chapters from here on are beta'd by Deej1957! :)

Neal had been sneaking away almost every day to meet Mozzie in the same park they used the first time. They were in the middle of a discussion one morning when they heard someone clearing his throat behind them.

They both turned around to see Peter Burke.

"Peter. Hi." Neal hesitated. He really didn't want to lie to Peter, a realization that somewhat startled him. Peter just looked at them and remained quiet.

"Peter, I…"

"Stop. Neal, whatever you're going to say, save it for later. The car is parked down the street. Wait for me there. I need to have a few words with your  _pal_ here."

Neal swallowed whatever he was going to say as soon as he took another look at Peter. There wasn't anything in Peter's eyes and voice that incited any reason for argument. So, he nodded briefly to Mozzie and turned towards the direction of the car.

Peter waited until Neal was gone and then turned to face the somewhat puzzling character in front of him. He looked older than Neal. Yes, definitely older, but still young. He also had a sense of street smarts about him. The same thing he had felt when he first saw Neal. Peter had no doubt in his mind that this guy was Neal's friend and crime partner. He had been monitoring Neal closely in case he tried to escape, but the only thing out of the ordinary had been his early meetings in the park with this guy standing in front of him. He had followed Neal carefully and had tried to look his friend up-, but found absolutely nothing in the FBI database. The man was a ghost.

"So, you're the kid's crime buddy," Peter said. "I thought you'd be taller."

"Me too," Mozzie responded. His hands were sweating and he had a giant urge to break out running, but he decided to face 'The Man', if only to keep Neal out of trouble.

"You've been meeting with him ever since I got him out."

Mozzie turned around and threw his hand in the air. "I should have known you were watching us!" He continued to pace and finally sat down in one of the benches. "You know, Neal had every right to be here, it's still within his radius."

"Yeah, I know. He didn't break any FBI rules, but he did break  _my_ rules. In my house it's against the rules to go somewhere and not tell me. It's definitely against the rules to sneak out through the window. You can't say anything to change my mind. He's still in trouble."

"Look, Suit, the kid just came out of Juvie. He's been hurt and needs a friend. He needs  _me_. I appreciate you taking him in, but you don't expect to keep him away from me do you?"

Peter stared back at the other man and suddenly realized that the relationship between this guy and Neal was much deeper than he had thought at first. The way he talked about Neal just screamed out his strong regard for his friend. He wasn't just a friend and crime partner, he was probably the only other person Neal could even regard as family. Peter sighed.

"You're right." Mozzie looked up at him, started at getting the Suit to agree with him over this. "I'm not asking you to stay away from him," Peter continued, "I'm saying that you have to stop seeing him like this. He can't keep on deceiving me and sneaking around. Neal has something good going on here, and he can't afford to throw it away."

Mozzie snorted. "Good? You call it staying in a Suit's house and having an electrical leash  _good_?" He got up and started pacing again. "What about being a snitch? Is that good? By now, everyone knows he's working with the FBI. Do you know what people in our line of business do to snitches?"

"I do, but Neal has a chance at a better life here. He's fifteen for crying out loud! You're his friend, you should know he deserves a break."

Mozzie knew that if there was anyone he ever met that deserved a chance at a better life it was Neal. His friend was smart and he was good, and he'd been through too much. Way more than anyone should ever have to go through. Peter Burke seemed like a trustworthy person, for a pig… Mozzie wanted to believe that he would help Neal if he needed it. He couldn't be around all the time, and Neal needed someone. He had always needed someone to be there for him.

"If you want to see him, you can come visit him at my house." Peter regretted the offer as soon as he said it. The last thing he needed or wanted was another con in his house, but if that kept Neal out of trouble, then that's what would have to happen.

"Ha! As if I would ever put a foot in a pig's house!"

"Look, those are the rules. I need to know that you're not getting Neal into any trouble or planning something for the future."

"That's nice, Suit. I think I'm leaving now. I'll take it under advisement." Mozzie turned to leave.

"Wait, what's your name? I can't really keep calling you Neal's little friend."

" _Little friend_? Sure, mock the short guy…"

Peter rolled his eyes.

"For all purposes from here on, you can call me Haversham."

"Haversham. Okay, how do I get in touch with you? I want to ask you some things about Neal."

Mozzie stared back and responded quickly. "You can't get in touch with me and I don't rat out friends."

"It's to protect him," Peter said.

"That's the same rationale that was used by the Gestapo and the KGB."

The guy was definitely paranoid. Peter tried the only thing that seemed to get to him. "Look, I worry about him too." Peter faltered for a second before speaking again. He didn't want to violate Neal's trust, but things hadn't been going too well, and he really needed more information on the kid. This was his chance.

Mozzie was getting jumpy again. Maybe the Suit was going to arrest him after all. He located his nearest escape route and was about to turn around and run when Peter's next question stopped him in his tracks.

"Who's Kate?" Peter asked softly.

Mozzie turned around slowly and faced him. "Has he been talking about her?"

"Neal's been having… trouble sleeping. He wakes up in the middle of the night and screams Kate's name. It's her name most of the times, sometimes he calls his mom," Peter said. He really wasn't comfortable talking about this.

"There are many things of which a wise man might wish to be ignorant," Mozzie paused, "Neal's past…"

Peter looked at him expectantly. Mozzie stood still and regarded him carefully before he made up his mind.

"Kate, she was Neal's girlfriend. She died recently."

Peter nodded. _Great, one more person dying on the kid…_ he thought.

"Have you seen him, during his panic attacks?" Peter asked. "He… after he wakes up, they happen. My wife and I, we don't really know how to help him. He never talks about anything that's happened to him. Sometimes I think he likes to pretend that there's only ever been Present Neal and there has never been a Past Neal." Peter rubbed his face with his hands.

"Of course I've seen the panic attacks," Mozzie responded. "Just keep him breathing, talk to him. He just needs time." Mozzie would never betray Neal's trust, but he felt like he needed to explain things just a bit more.

"Neal… He hasn't had the easiest of lives. He's been through a lot. It's hard to let some things go. He's smart and sensitive, which kind of makes it worse. He rationalized everything that's happened to him, and has found a common factor."

"What is it?" Peter asked.

"Sorry, Suit. That, you have to find out for yourself. Just, go easy on him, okay?" Mozzie started to walk away.

"Haversham! No funny business with the kid, no sneaking around, no secret meetings, and no cons!"

Mozzie stopped for a moment then continued walking out of the park.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter found a nervous looking Neal pacing in front of his Taurus. He took out his keys and pressed the button to open the car.

"Get in."

Neal stepped into the passenger's seat and sat down waiting for Peter to go around and get into the car. It had been hard - harder than anything he'd had to do lately - to try and stay put while waiting for Peter to return. The urge to run had been big. Especially since he knew he'd be in trouble. In Neal's mind, any type of conflict meant trouble.

Peter got into the car, started it up, and began driving. They kept quiet for the 10 minutes it took them to make their way back the Burke's and find a parking spot a few houses down. Neal was about to open the door to get out when Peter stopped him.

"Neal. We have to talk."

"Yeah?" Neal asked with nonchalance, trying to sound amused. It didn't quite work.

"Yes. You deliberately disobeyed the rules. This type of behavior won't be tolerated. You've been sneaking around, climbing out through windows?" Peter turned to look at him and he didn't look angry. It was worse, he looked disappointed.

"I…" Neal deliberated about his next words. "Peter, I had to see him. Mozzie. I knew you wouldn't be okay with it …"

"Mozzie?" Peter asked calmly.

"He… umm, he didn't tell you his name?"  _Shit, now I've got Mozz in trouble_ , Neal thought.

"Haversham told me his name. Mozzie didn't," Peter clarified.

"Right. Haversham. I've known him for a long time and I needed to see him. I kew you wouldn't approve–"

"What makes you think I wouldn't approve? Is it the fact that he was your crime buddy or the fact that he was probably the one that helped you escape Juvie? Maybe it was the fact that he doesn't even have a real name?"

Neal swallowed hard. He was in trouble. Peter sounded angry now. This wasn't okay. "Peter, I just… I had to see him."

"Neal, look at me." Neal lifted his eyes hesitantly. "I can't stop you from meeting with anyone. You can meet with Haversham, just don't lie about it."

"I didn't lie," Neal offered up quickly.

"Yes, you did. An omission like this is just like a lie. You came back every day and pretended to wake up later, and acted like nothing happened."

Neal lowered his gaze and asked somewhat quietly, "So this means I can still see him?"

"Yeah, you can see him, just don't do anything stupid. Don't plan cons, don't ruin this."

"Okay," Neal acquiesced. There really wasn't anything else to say. He couldn't give up on seeing Mozzie even if Peter had forbidden it. He hadn't planned anything criminal yet either, but that could change somewhere in the foreseeable future.

"Okay," said Peter and got out of the car. They both made their way into the house and found Elizabeth waiting for them with breakfast in the table and Satchmo at her feet.

"Good morning boys." She got up and kissed Peter while Neal made his way to his seat on the table and patted Satchmo.

Elizabeth sat down and started talking about the day ahead of them. She was incredible. Neal still had a hard time getting it around his mind that Peter could be married to someone as amazing as Elizabeth. She didn't even ask where they had been or what had happened. Neal guessed that Peter had probably told her before leaving, but still…

The three of them settled into a comfortable conversation about one of Elizabeth's clients. It was the same one who had been bothering her with lighting changes in a ballroom every day during the last week. Neal laughed at all the right places in the story and was surprised once again at how easy it was falling into life with the Burkes. He enjoyed their house, their dog, and their conversations. Their life held an appeal for Neal that nothing else ever had.

He'd never had to follow rules before. He'd never had a curfew or had to tell anyone if he was going somewhere. He'd never had anyone ask him how his day was. It was nice…it was too easy. Living here, it was comfortable.  _Temporary, Neal. This is temporary, don't get attached, and don't get close_ , Neal thought. Peter and Elizabeth were just temporary. He didn't belong here. He could never belong to them, so he might as well keep his distance before anyone got too attached. He'd pretend to be normal. He was great at pretending.

After breakfast, he grabbed his backpack and Peter drove him to school on his way to work. Neal tried to repeat it to himself on the way to school. He said it over and over again in his mind trying to trick his brain into believing it.  _You don't belong here Neal._


	10. Chapter 10

_It was dark in the alley. They were just around the corner of the Diner Neal's mom used to work in, back in New Jersey. One of Adler's men took a step closer to Neal and Kate._

" _Don't. Adler, please, just let her go," Neal pleaded to the impeccably dressed man in front of them._

_Adler turned toward his guy. "I'm not paying you just to stand there, get it over with."_

_The man took a final step and Neal watched with horror as he fired straight into Kate's gut. She gasped and fell down, instantly tainting the floor beneath her a deep crimson red._

" _No! No! Oh my God! Kate! Kate!"_

_Neal was stuck in the same place. He couldn't move. His legs wouldn't move…he had just let that giant goon kill Kate. He'd done nothing to save her. Just like the last time. He was useless. He'd gotten Kate killed._

" _Kate…" he whimpered._

_Suddenly, he looked up and Adler and his men were gone. He was back where it all started. His mom's purse was right beside his left tennis shoe and its contents were scattered all around him in the street. The puddle of blood was bigger than Kate's and his mom lay there right were Kate had been a second ago._

_It was exactly the way he remembered it._

" _Mom?" he asked cautiously. His first call was always a question._

" _Mom!" He tried moving but he couldn't move. He couldn't step into the puddle of blood…_

" _Mom!"_

_He finally willed his feet into moving and ran to his mother's side. He turned her over trying to get a look at her face and see if she was still breathing. Neal gasped._

" _Elizabeth?" His mom had disappeared and suddenly Elizabeth Burke lay there. Her eyes were glazed over. Peter was going to kill him. He had gotten his wife killed._

" _Neal!" He turned around to look down the street and see who was calling him, but he didn't see anyone and he couldn't take his eyes away from his blood covered hands. Kate's blood, his mom's blood, Elizabeth's blood…_

"Neal! Wake up. Neal! It's just a dream… Neal!"

Peter was freaking out again. He had woken up for the second day in a row to Neal's screams. Elizabeth had handled his before, but she had left town on a business trip for a week and he found himself standing beside Neal's bed, trying to shake him awake.

"Neal!" he tried once more. The kid was tossing around, his whole body plastered in sweat. He had been screaming again a few moments ago.

Neal gave a final whimper in his sleep and opened his eyes with a gasp. He looked around hastily, panicking. In the commotion, Peter forgot to take his hand away from where he was grasping Neal and the kid started trying to shake him off. Clammy and shaking hands tried to push Peter's hand away. Peter let go and Neal immediately pushed himself farther away in his bed. He was shaking heavily and starting to hyperventilate.

 _Oh God_ , Peter thought in horror,  _he's doing it again_. He barely had time to catch the boy in his arms when Neal's eyes rolled over and he collapsed.

Peter carefully set Neal down in the bed. He arranged the pillows beneath his head and checked his pulse. Then, he got up and went to the bathroom for a glass of water and a towel, and grabbed a clean t-shirt from the closet. He carefully pressed the towel against Neal's arms, trying to dry him off. He gently brushed Neal's hair out of his eyes and dried the tears and sweat from his face.

What the hell was wrong with Neal? He felt so helpless when this happened. He felt the urge to run and scream and grab Neal and take him as fast as possible to the nearest ER so they could put him back together. He wanted to make this right. No one should have to go through this. No one.

"Neal…" he said delicately. "Neal, wake up buddy."

"It's Peter, Neal. Come back."

After a few minutes of quiet coaxing, Neal stirred and opened his eyes slowly. "Peter?"

"Yeah, buddy. It's me."

"Elizabeth?" Neal asked in a pitiful voice. "Is she…?"

"She's not here Neal. She had to go to San Francisco, remember?" Peter asked cautiously. "She'll be back on Friday."

Neal looked confused. "Is she… she's okay?"

Peter stared back at him worryingly. "She's okay Neal."

Neal sighed in relief. He was still shaking slightly and Peter moved to grab the extra t-shirt so he could get Neal changed to something dry. He handed it to Neal, who stiffened when Peter's hand touched his arm. He grabbed it and started to pull himself up. Peter remained seated in the edge of the bed while Neal lifted his drenched pajama top, dried himself with the towel and put the clean t-shirt on.

"Here, drink some water." Peter held the glass out and Neal took it, drinking a little bit before handing it back to Peter. He closed his eyes and rested his body against the headboard.

"That was some dream you had," Peter said. He was terrible at these things. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say. He wanted to make everything right and he knew he couldn't. "Want to talk about it?"

Neal opened his eyes slowly and Peter noticed that they were big and wet. The kid was about to cry.  _I can't handle crying_ … Peter thought in a panic.

"I don't think so Peter. Sorry I woke you up. You should really go back to sleep. I'm fine," Neal said in a casual voice. Everything about him belied his statement. His pale face, his clenched shaking hands, his tear filled eyes.

Peter sighed. He wished he could just hold him and make him better. "Neal, you have to stop doing this. You are not fine. Just talk to me, I can help."

Neal shook his head and stared down at his hands. "I can't Peter," he said, almost a whisper.

"Okay kid," said Peter resignedly. "Just try to get some rest." They were both tired. He'd get him to talk soon enough. He had to do something, but maybe now was not the time.

Neal nodded and moved down the bed. He pulled the comforter up over his shoulders and turned his body to the side so his back was towards Peter. He didn't want Peter to see his tears when they finally fell from his eyes.

He expected Peter to get up and leave. His back was practically a dismissal from his room, but Peter didn't go. He could feel his weight on the bed, the heat of his body against him, and could hear his quiet and steady breaths. After a few minutes he finally let the tears in his eyes fall and he cried as quietly as possible. He cried until there were no tears left and still Peter didn't move. Neal had never been able to go to sleep after a nightmare induced panic attack. Not even with Mozzie beside him.

After a while he settled down, closed his eyes, and concentrated on Peter's calm regular breathing. He thought about the fact that Peter hadn't left him alone, and after what seemed like an eternity of silence and steady breaths, he finally fell asleep.

Peter watched Neal shake and cry silently and his heart ached. He wanted to reassure him, he wanted to put a hand in his shoulder and tell him it would be okay, but he couldn't. So he just stayed there. He turned his body and sat on the edge of the bed staring at the opposite wall for what seemed like an eternity, until he was absolutely sure that Neal had fallen asleep again. He finally got up, left the door of the room open and went to his own room. He looked at the alarm clock. It was 3:15 am. It had taken two hours for Neal to finally get to sleep again. He looked at his empty bed and an abrupt and uncontrollable desire for Elizabeth took hold of him. He wanted to hold her tight and forget about the nightmares and the screams. He dropped down on his bed and fell asleep hugging a pillow and thinking about how lonely the boy in the next room must feel.

 

* * *

 

 

Neal woke up the next day to sunshine coming through the window and the smell of coffee and bacon. He turned to look at his alarm clock and saw that it was already nine in the morning. He was so late for school! He got up quickly; he grabbed a pair of khaki pants and a white button down shirt and made his way to the bathroom.

Peter watched Neal coming down the stairs rapidly but gracefully, with his hair perfectly arranged and his backpack on his shoulder.

"Morning, Peter. Sorry, I don't think I'll have breakfast, I'm late for school," Neal said as he made his way through the kitchen, grabbing a granola bar, an apple, and a bottle of water.

"You might as well eat breakfast Neal. I called the school. You're not going today. I thought I'd take you in to work with me. We got a few new leads yesterday that can't wait till the afternoon," Peter said. That wasn't necessarily true, they did have some leads, but they could wait. He just wanted to keep Neal close by today.

"Oh," Neal said surprised. "Really? You're letting me skip school?" he asked with a grin. He put his backpack on the floor beside the table and sat down. He took a sip of his coffee and gobbled down a piece of bacon.

"This is a one-time thing, don't think it's happening again," Peter responded with a smile. Neal definitely looked better. He felt good about letting him sleep late. The extra hours of rest had done him wonders.

They ate breakfast and arrived at the Bureau half an hour later. Neal made his way over to a little desk they had provided him with on the corner, and Peter made his way to his office. He stepped out twenty minutes later to talk to Hughes.

Neal watched him from his desk and turned his attention towards the stack of papers he had in front of him. Ugh! Was there anything worse or more mind-numbing than filing papers?  _Yeah, probably: mortgage fraud,_  he thought with distaste. He was the property of the FBI and as long as Peter was concerned that meant putting Neal to work. Even if they didn't have leads on Adler, Neal had become the White Collar's filer and errand boy.

"Good morning Neal. Peter's making you work on a school day?" Neal lifted his head to look at Agent Jones. He immediately smiled. He had liked Jones from the first time he met him.

"Apparently you guys can't get through a day without my impressive filing skills," Neal said.

"Neal!"

They both looked up and saw Peter giving him the two finger point. He got up from the table and excused himself from Jones. He made his way casually to Peter's office and closed the door behind him.

"Peter?" he asked, sitting down in front of Peter's desk while starting to play with his elastic rubber band ball.

"I just talked to Hughes," Peter said, not looking up from the papers on his desk. He nodded towards a giant stack of folders on his right. "They just finished going over every single crime and person that has been in contact or suspected of being in contact with Adler. I'm busy with another case so you're going to go through every file and let me know if something pops out."

Neal took another look at the files on his desk and got up reluctantly to grab them. He made his way to the door and stopped at Peter's call.

"Neal, there's five more stacks when you're finished with those," Peter said.

"Ugh, Peter," said Neal with a grimace, "don't you have enough agents around to do this?"

Peter looked up and grinned. "I've got something better, I got you."

 


	11. Chapter 11

Neal waited impatiently in the principal's office for Peter to come get him. It was late on Friday, and the school was practically deserted. He'd gotten into a fight. Well, actually, he hadn't done much of the fighting, it had been pretty one sided. The other guy, Mark something-or-other, seemed offended by the fact that Neal had gotten the attention of his girlfriend during lunch. Mark got up, accused him of being a good for nothing criminal and punched him hard in the jaw. As Neal doubled over, a teacher promptly stepped between them, grabbed them, and took them both to the principal's office. Mark had gotten a reprimand and he'd left about 3 hours ago when his mom picked him up. Neal of course, was blamed for the whole thing. He was the criminal boy with the tracking anklet after all…

Peter made his way to the office and after a glance at Neal's bruised face walked into the principal's office. Neal waited while they talked until Peter came out again ten minutes later.

"Come on. We're leaving," said Peter as he made his way out of the office rapidly. Neal got up, grabbed his backpack, and ran a bit to catch up with him.

They made it to the car and drove home in silence. Peter looked angry.  _Of course he'd blame me too_ , Neal thought bitterly. He was in trouble again. He wondered how long it would take for Peter and Elizabeth to finally decide he wasn't worth it all. This was the third time in the last four months that this had happened.

The first time, he was accused of cheating in a test. He hadn't, he had studied and had gotten a perfect score. They'd kept him in the principal's office until Elizabeth arrived and talked to the teacher to let him retake the test. He took it again and aced it again. They let him be.

The second time, he was accused of stealing the calculus teacher's laptop. It had gone missing the day before and everyone automatically assumed it had been him. He denied it, they didn't believe him. The laptop was never found, but Peter convinced them that they couldn't possible hold him responsible for something without proof. From then on, he always ended up with extra calculus homework.

The third time had also been a fight. It happened during gym class. They were playing basketball and his anklet caught in the sock of another guy. They both tripped and fell down. He tried apologizing but it didn't go too well. He ended up in the principal's office with a black eye and a less than favorable reputation.

Peter pulled to a stop in front of the house. Neal got out of the car and followed Peter to the kitchen. It looked like Elizabeth had just gotten home; she was starting to pour some wine into a glass, when Peter walked in and kissed her lightly on the lips. He made his way to the fridge to get a beer for himself and a glass of apple juice for Neal. He set the juice in front of Neal and paced around the kitchen taking sips from his beer.

"Hon, are you okay?" Elizabeth asked worriedly. She looked from Peter to Neal and saw Neal's bruised jaw. Rising, she grabbed an ice pack from the fridge and handed it to Neal.

"Here, hold this to your face. It'll help," she said. "Are  _you_  okay, what happened?"

"Got in a fight in school again," Neal admitted grudgingly. "The other guy beat me up."

"No, Neal," said Peter angrily, finally stopping his pacing and staring down at Neal. "You didn't get in a fight. You can't get in a fight if you don't fight back."

Neal gave him a puzzled look.

"Dammit Neal! You can't keep letting the guys at school beat you up!" he yelled.

"Peter? You should calm down a bit," said Elizabeth getting up to hold Peter in her arms. Peter sighed and rested his head against El's.

"Neal, why didn't you fight back? This is the second time this has happened. I'm getting tired of watching you come back hurt from school," Elizabeth turned to face him.

Neal shrugged, "Violence requires no imagination." Peter looked at him in disbelief.

"Are you mad at me?" Neal asked. They must be mad. It wasn't fun trying to get him out of trouble in school, having to pick him up from the principal's office every time he screwed up. For the tenth time that day, he wondered when they would finally give him up and get back to their quiet Neal-free life.

"Why would I be mad at you?" Peter asked. "You know what? I  _am_  mad," he continued rapidly when he saw Neal lower his gaze. "I'm mad that you can't defend yourself. I'm mad that you keep letting them hit you or accuse you of stealing things. You're a con! Can't you use your  _imagination_  to think your way out of a fight?"

"I thought I wasn't supposed to use my 'con super powers', isn't that how you put it in the rules?" Neal asked angrily as he pointed over to the list of rules hanging on the fridge.

"Yes," Peter paused. "No! You can't use your charm for anything illegal, but you have to use it for this, Neal." Peter started pacing again.

"So the rules are rules, but just for some things? I should just magically know when to use them or when to ignore them?" Neal looked at Elizabeth. "I should be bad, but only when you say so?"

He was having trouble breathing and his heart was beating too fast. He didn't want to have a panic attack. They had gotten better. He'd been living with the Burke's for four months now, and the panic attacks and the nightmares were not as frequent now. The last one had happened two weeks ago. He wanted to calm down right now, but he was just too worked up. He put his hand on the table to steady himself and started trying to calm his breathing. His head was already killing him, his blood pounding relentlessly against his skull.

Elizabeth immediately made her way towards Neal's side and put a hand on his shoulder. "Neal, honey, you have to calm down."

Neal looked at her comforting and worried eyes and then down at her hand on his shoulder. He wanted to trust Elizabeth. Every single cell in his body told him that he could trust her, but he still shook his head and slipped out of her hold. He couldn't afford anyone touching him. Especially not Elizabeth.  _God, my head is killing me..._

Elizabeth sighed, lowered her arm and took a step back.

"Neal, you have to breathe now."  _Peter_ , Neal thought.  _Breathe._

He sat down and put his head between his legs and gave a big gasp, trying to suck in air.

"That's it kid, just keep breathing. We're here." Peter's voice repeated over and over until the room stopped spinning and the pounding in his head got smaller. He lifted his head and saw that Elizabeth and Peter were sitting down right beside him, holding hands. Satchmo was lying at his feet looking up at him expectantly.

"All better?" Elizabeth asked. Neal nodded and took a sip from his apple juice.

"I think you need a break," Peter said pensively after a few minutes of silence.

"A break?" Neal asked cautiously.

"Yeah. It's been four months and we still don't have anything that incriminates Adler. We're much closer, but not as close as I'd like to be," Peter responded. "I think we need a break. You know, to relax and do some fishing."

Neal made a face. "Fishing? Catch actual living fish?"

"Yes, fishing," Peter said with a smile, looking over at El. "We have the whole weekend. I have a cabin near the lake. I'll just call the Bureau to let them know so you'll be released into my custody for the weekend."

Neal swallowed. "So, we're all going…fishing?"

"No honey. Peter and you are going. I have a big event tomorrow night," Elizabeth responded.

"Just us two, huh?" Neal asked Peter nervously.

"Satchmo can come along. It'll be fun, just us guys."

 _Yeah, fun_ , thought Neal sarcastically. W _hat could be better than going for a weekend fishing trip with a Fed?_

"Do I have to go? Or is this one up for discussion, because if it is, I think I would rather just stay and relax here. I have a good book to read and…"

"I hate to break it to you buddy, but you don't have a choice. You're going and that's final."

 

* * *

 

 

Peter woke Neal up early next day and by eight that morning they were already outside of the city sitting at a table in a 24 hour diner having breakfast. From where they sat they could see Satchmo sitting in the car staring out the open window.

Peter ordered two plates of pancakes, simple ones for Neal and blueberry ones for himself. The nice old lady that worked as a waitress smiled at them and returned a few minutes later with their order and a big pot of coffee.

"Do you want some coffee, dear?" She asked Neal with a smile, "or just some for your dad?"

Neal shrugged uncomfortably but smiled at her. "Yes, I'll have some please." It was easier letting her assume that they were father and son rather than trying to explain the FBI-agent / criminal-teenager-with-monitoring-anklet relationship.

Peter smiled as well and waited until she was gone. He picked up his fork and attacked his blueberry pancakes.

"Do I look like a dad?" he asked Neal half-jokingly.

"I wouldn't know," Neal answered noncommittally, eating his pancakes and looking outside to see Satchmo with his head out the car window. He didn't know what the waitress was thinking. Peter looked nothing like him. Peter and Elizabeth's kid would probably be the exact opposite of him. _Lucky for them_ , he thought.

Peter nodded and kept eating. He couldn't imagine not ever knowing his dad. He couldn't imagine not ever having a father figure in his life.

"What about your mom? What did she look like?" he asked the boy.

Neal ate quietly for a moment before answering, "She looked tired all the time."

"Did she look like you?" Peter pressed.

"No," Neal answered and kept on eating. This really wasn't something he wanted to talk about. He looked at Peter and he decided to offer a bit more of information so he would leave him alone. "Everyone always told me that I look just like my dad."

"Hmm…" Peter nodded and changed the subject. It was obvious that this wasn't a good topic with Neal, but he was determined to get something out of him by the end of the weekend. Some way or another, they had to learn to trust each other.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene at the end of the chapter is similar to a short scene from the Swedish movie 'Patrik 1,5'. If you have a chance to see it, it's a great movie about a fifteen year old orphan boy that gets mistakenly placed with a gay married couple that's looking to adopt.


	12. Chapter 12

The drive took about five hours. It was mostly quiet and comfortable, and although Neal started fumbling with the buttons in the car making Peter crazy at first, he finally settled on a Jazz station and they drove the rest of the way in relative calmness. Peter noticed that Neal seemed to absorb the scenery like a sponge. He had asked him earlier if he had ever been fishing before and Neal had admitted he'd actually never been anywhere like that before.

Peter's cabin was located in Southwest Ontario County. It was on the shore of the smallest of the Finger Lakes, Lake Canadice. Whereas most lakes in western New York were heavily developed, this one still had beautiful wooded shores and hillsides. The atmosphere of remoteness contributed to the "unspoiled" atmosphere of the place.

The cabin wasn't big. It only had one bedroom and Peter announced to an argumentative Neal that he would have to sleep on the couch. Of course, the couch was perfectly okay, Neal had slept in much worse places, but he liked exasperating Peter. Satchmo seemed a bit skeptical about the place at first but after he gave it a good sniffing, he settled himself beside Neal's backpack on the couch and observed them while they brought all their things from the car.

Peter made a couple of sandwiches and they settled on some chairs in the porch to eat them. Peter could see that Neal finally seemed to be unwinding from everything that had happened lately. It was nice out there, just the three of them and nature.

In the afternoon, Peter grabbed all the fishing gear and led Neal down to a small dock. He'd taken their small boat out of the storage garage an hour ago and they loaded everything into the boat. Fifteen minutes later, they were somewhere in the middle of the lake fishing.

"So, what kind of fish are we going for?" Neal asked.

"Well, there's mostly trout and smallmouth bass in this lake," Peter responded.

"How do you know where to stay? I mean, where to put the boat to make sure you're going to catch something?"

"It's not so much about the place. You have to take into consideration the habitat of course, but the most important thing is presenting the right bait, in just the right way, which varies with time and location."

"Mmm… kind of like the work you do in the Bureau, then? Baiting criminals in just the right way to catch them?" Neal asked with a smirk.

"Yeah, something like that." Peter moved closer to Neal and sat beside him. "The perfect bait here is flies and spinners for the trout, and jigs, crankbaits or topwaters for the smallmouth bass." He grabbed one of the rods they had brought along and proceeded to explain the essentials to Neal.

Neal paid attention. He really did, but who knew there were so many parts to a fishing rod? There was the tip top, the tip, the windings, the guide, the butt guide, the ferrule, the butt, the hook keeper, the reel seat, the handle, the butt cap… It was a good thing that he actually had good recall or he wouldn't have been able to keep up. Peter proceeded with patience and asked him some questions along with the explanation **,**  making sure Neal was getting it all.

After the "Fishing 101" explanation, Peter watched Neal, who was peering intently at the water where his line had disappeared. He smiled and leaned back in his seat. "Neal, keep the line taut. You'll be able to respond better if a fish bites."

Enjoying the peacefulness surrounding them, Peter eventually took another look at Neal and then turned his gaze back towards the water and started talking slowly, relaxation oozing from him with every uttered word.

"My dad," Peter started, "who might be the best person I've ever met, used to bring me here every year. We'd sit in this boat for hours. Every year, we had a weekend getaway. It started when I turned 5 and even when I grew older and got married, we still came."

"He sounds like a good dad." Neal commented moving his fishing rod nervously in his hands.

"He was. The best you could wish for." They sat in silence for some time. "He died; prostate cancer. About 4 years ago."

Neal nodded in acknowledgement.

"I miss him," Peter stated. "You know, he used to say things like: 'Marry the right person. That one decision will determine ninety percent of your happiness or misery,' or 'work at something you enjoy and that's worthy of your time and talent'. He always put things in perspective. He always gave the best advice," Peter said smiling at the memories.

Neal smiled back at him. It was nice, to contemplate a life like Peter's, to imagine a perfect childhood, with loving parents, and traditions like fishing trips with your dad every year.

Neal concentrated on his fishing rod and the still water around them. He wasn't a patient person, at all, but being there with Peter was…pleasant. It was almost as if he was actually another person. He thought about the waitress of the diner earlier and how easily he could pretend to be Peter's son. How he could create a new alias and step into the role.

"So, what's going on in school?" Peter asked, startling Neal out of his reverie.

"Nothing interesting," Neal replied. Peter gave him a pointed look.

"Really, Peter," Neal said nonchalantly, "the classes are  _so_ easy."

"All those AP classes you're taking? They're not hard?"

"Easy," Neal reaffirmed.

"Have you made any friends yet?"

Neal hadn't. No one had asked what had happened or where he came from. No one had actually claimed that Peter and El weren't his real parents, but there wasn't a chance that he could hide the anklet during gym. Teenagers were ruthless. End of story. No amount of Caffrey charm actually worked against the anklet and the stories invented by his classmates.

"A few. Here and there." It wasn't lie, Neal thought. Some classmates did talk to him. They just weren't friends.

"Mmhmm…" Peter didn't buy it.

They stayed there, sitting side by side without saying anything for a long time. By the end of the second hour without any bites, Neal was starting to feel restless. He liked the nature, and this place was nice, especially with Peter beside him, but he just wasn't accustomed to doing something that didn't give you anything in return. It wasn't like him to do something without winning or without expecting a prize for doing it.

He'd always enjoyed the rush more than the stealing part. It was addictive; the thrill of knowing you'd do a con and get away with it. It was easy and fulfilling and the prize was immediate. You'd con someone and you'd get an instant reward. This was  _nothing_  like that. It was basically working hard and waiting to "possibly" get something in return. So, what the hell was the point?

Peter had noticed Neal's restlessness climbing at an incredible rate for the last twenty minutes or so. Neal was tapping his foot repeatedly and playing with his fishing rod, causing ripples all through the water around them. Peter reached over and put a hand over Neal's knee, trying to still his tapping. He let the knee go when Neal looked up at him and stopped.

"Fishing is supposed to be a contemplative sport, Neal," Peter said. "It doesn't matter much what you catch, or whether you catch anything to keep."

"Then why do you do it?" asked Neal genuinely puzzled.

Peter sighed and settled back in his seat.

"The water is one of the best places to sort out your thoughts. When you're out here, no one is bothering you, and the only sounds you hear are those of nature. This is one of the best places for reflection." Peter swept his arm trying to encompass everything around them. "All of this, the sound of the water flowing beneath you, the quietness… it's special. There's no better place to get to know yourself."

"So, you basically sit here. Doing  _nothing_ , just thinking about yourself?" Neal asked. "It sounds awfully unproductive and self-absorbed. You don't even expect to catch anything?"

"Yes Neal, I do expect to catch something. It's fishing after all…" Peter responded. "Patience," he said after a quick pause. "There are some things in life that don't come quickly and easily. Fishing is one of them."

Neal contemplated the words and forced himself to try to relax and absorb his surroundings once more. He started talking quietly after some time. "You've been asking me about my dad. I think my mom told me what any kid would want to hear."

"That he was a hero?" Peter asked.

"He wasn't **,** " Neal said forcibly. "He was a dirty cop."

Peter nodded but remained quiet.

"What did my file say he did?" Neal asked not looking at him.

"It said that he was a cop, who died in a bust gone bad," Peter responded.

"He was dirty," Neal repeated emphatically, like that was all that actually mattered.

"Neal, you're not him," said Peter reassuringly.

"If I'm not my father's son… who am I?"

Peter shrugged and looked at him. "Certain things are…"

"In my blood," Neal interrupted.

Peter shook his head. "I don't believe that."

Neal shook his own head at that and Peter knew he didn't believe him.

"Do you miss him? Your dad?" asked Peter.

Neal gave him a look that plainly said:  _You think?_

"It's not so much that I actually miss him. I miss…the idea of him." He missed something he had never had. What would it be like to have a father? Doing things with his father like Peter used to do with his father?  _Things like fishing and talking… like what you're doing with Peter right now?_  Neal thought treacherously, and tried to banish the thought from his head.

"What about your mom?"

Peter could practically see the walls coming up again after his question. Neal locked eyes with him and smiled charmingly before responding.

"You know, I've always been kind of a loner. Orphan kid missing his parents, isn't that so cliché, Peter?"

Peter tried to ignore his walls and kept prodding. "You were left alone when you were smaller?"

After his dad died, his mom was devastated at being left alone. It wasn't only the fact that his dad had died disgraced as a dirty cop, but he also died leaving a lot of bills behind. So, his mom worked hard. She had 3 different jobs that paid very little money.

Neal adored her and he knew - he knew that he wasn't only her son Neal. He was also a 24/7 reminder of his dad as well. He'd seen pictures and heard comments from all their acquaintances. His dad had the same brown locks of hair, the same blue eyes, and the same carefree smile. His mom used to tell him stories about his dad. Stories about how they met, of where he took her for their first date, and of how he could charm practically any living thing with a smile. She had loved him, deeply, and he had left them.

She never went on dates with other guys and her little free time was spent at home with him. Unfortunately, it wasn't a lot of time. Even when he was small, he learned to be independent and tried to do as much as possible to help his mom. She was just so tired most of the time.

Neal sat pensively for a couple of minutes and he surprised himself and Peter when he actually replied. "My mom was pretty busy so I handled things on my own, most of the time."

"How long is most of the time?"

"Let's put it this way. When I was ten I skipped a week of school before anyone noticed."

"When did the panic attacks start?"

Neal answered distractedly, "I was five…" Neal suddenly stood up and grabbed his fishing rod tightly. "Peter! I think I have something!"

Peter stood up too and watched as Neal struggled with the fishing rod. Neal's heart was pounding hard, this time not from any kind of panic attack, but from his excitement. This was it, the struggle between man and fish.  _Neal against nature,_ he thought. He took a breath as Peter suggested and tried to do everything that Peter kept saying.

Five minutes later he held a squirmy and slimy fish in his hands. Holding it, Neal felt a sense of accomplishment, knowing that he caught it, and that all his work and patience actually paid off. He finally understood that all of the time he spent waiting for a damn fish was actually worth it.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter watched Neal struggle and finally get his fish out. He'd been dying to help him. He'd wanted to take the fishing rod and pull it out himself, but he didn't. He remembered the excitement when he caught his first fish. It had been wonderful.

Neal dropped the medium sized trout on the deck and Peter watched as he grabbed it and held it up with both hands. The smile in Neal's face was completely genuine. No walls, no con. It lit up the whole world around him. Peter grinned back. He patted Neal on the shoulder, and swore to himself that he'd try to do anything in his power to keep that smile on the kid's face.

It was getting late. He pulled his own fishing rod out, took out the camera, and snapped a few pictures of Neal and his trout for El. They gathered their stuff, and taking animatedly about nothing in particular, they turned the boat around and returned to the cabin.

 


	13. Chapter 13

It was the best couple of days they had both had in quite a while. Peter and Neal spent Saturday hiking in the forests around the lake with Satchmo during the morning. They had spent the afternoon fishing again and retired after a few hours with three trouts to add to Neal's previous catch. Peter insisted on cooking them for dinner and they ate the fish until they couldn't take another bite. They were delicious.

After a late night of star gazing they slept peacefully and Peter decided that they would stay all of Sunday and return to the city early on Monday. On Sunday, they rose bright and early and drove to another hiking trail further away. It was scenic and peaceful and they stopped to eat in a local restaurant on their way back to the cabin. It started to rain late in the afternoon, and after a while, they just called it a day and gathered in the living room to play cards, drink coffee, and listen to the rain outside. Neal cheated shamelessly at every single game they tried, but they both ended up having fun and laughing comfortably. It was more a game of Peter trying to catch him cheating, and Neal trying to get away with it.

At ten pm Neal got a text message on his phone from Mozzie. The message was enough to make him fall from whatever cloud he'd been daydreaming from for the last couple of days. It was short, to the point, and it scared the hell out of Neal.

_He found me. I can't get away. Need you. You know where._

It was a good thing Peter had insisted on going to sleep a couple of minutes ago, since it would have been disastrous to try to con him after reading that text. Neal's distress was almost palpable. He looked quickly at Peter's door. It was closed almost all of the way and Neal could hear Peter's steady snoring behind it. He sat up from the couch slowly and carefully, trying not to make a sound. Satchmo stirred in his corner and lifted his head to watch what Neal was doing.

It was still raining a little bit outside, but there was also some light to be seen now thatthe rain eased a little and the moon shone out. Neal stood up without hesitation, grabbed Peter's car keys from the kitchen counter and slipped out of the cabin as fast as possible. He had a sudden shock of reality when he felt the rain in his skin and under his feet. He was still in his pajama pants and a t-shirt, and he was barefoot. He shuddered and made his way quickly to the Taurus. He got in and put the key in the ignition, but didn't turn it on.

 _What are you doing?_ Neal thought after a look back at the cabin. He hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand and struggled with his need to scream in frustration.

He was drenched, sitting in Peter's car, with stolen keys, and a tracking device around his ankle. There was no way he could run. He was just… restless. Mozzie's text changed everything. Whatever he had been playing before with the Burkes and the FBI, he wasn't sure the game was even on the table anymore. Adler had found them. Actually, Mozzie had said, "he found  _me_ "… what did that mean? Was he **,** Neal, still safe? And what did it matter if he was? Mozzie obviously wasn't… It was just a matter of time before Adler found Neal. If he found him with the Burkes… he didn't even want to consider it.

He took a few deep breaths and tried to calm himself. He couldn't run, it wouldn't work, not here, five hours away from the city. He'd have to go back in and steal the key to his anklet and ditch Peter's car somewhere around the closest town. It wouldn't work… He'd just have to stay and try to find Mozzie when they made it back tomorrow.

The rain finally eased and the moon was shining brightly outside. He sighed, took the keys out of the ignition, and stepped out of the car. He turned away from the cabin and slowly made his way to the edge of the lake. He stood there watching the ripples in the water from the drops of rain falling from the trees around the shore.

He really didn't have a choice. It was Mozzie. He'd get in trouble, probably, but he'd have to find a way to trick Peter and El and help Mozzie. The guilt he felt hit him like a brick to the face.

He watched the scene before him and couldn't help but whispering to himself – "I many times thought peace had come – when peace was far away. As wrecked men deem they sight the land at center of the sea." He closed his eyes and painfully tried to lull his mind. "And struggle slacker but to prove, as hopelessly as I – how many fictitious shores before the harbor be…"

 

* * *

 

 

Peter woke up to Satchmo's wet nose in his hand. He got up with a start and took a look at the empty couch through his half opened door.

He grabbed a sweater, slipped on some sneakers and made his way outside the door. It had stopped raining, but everything was still wet outside. He took a frantic look around the cabin and past his car, and did a quick turn around the cabin. He was about to go back in to grab his phone and a flashlight when he saw a figure standing under the shadow of a tree right on the edge of the lake.

He rapidly made his way over, stopping a few feet away. He calmed down a little bit when he confirmed his previous assessment and saw Neal there. He was completely still and had his eyes closed. For a second, Peter almost thought he could be asleep, but then a quiet sound like a gasp reached his ears and he stepped forward to pull Neal back from the edge of the water.

"Neal," Peter called out in a soothing voice.

Neal's eyes shot open at the contact of Peter's hand and the sound of his voice. Peter took a small step back after looking at Neal's face. It was a face made lifeless by dejection. Neal blinked and seemed to come to himself under Peter's presence. He stepped closer to Peter and seemed surprised when he drew his feet away rapidly after stepping on a sharp rock. Peter looked down and for the first time registered that Neal was barefoot. He grabbed him by the shoulder again and asked intensely, "Are you hurt?"

Neal looked down at his feet as if in a daze and back at Peter. "No…"

"Come here," ordered Peter. The paternal protectiveness he felt towards Neal was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He'd felt love towards Elizabeth, and it was definitely the highest sentiment he'd ever had, but this thing with a convict teenager was truly inexplicable.

Neal obeyed and followed Peter back to the cabin without another word. He stopped and handed back Peter's car keys before going inside. He changed to warm clothes in the bathroom, settled on the couch and covered himself with his blanket.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Peter asked, receiving a small nod as an answer.

He sat down in the arm chair and pulled a blanket over himself, suddenly feeling chilled despite the humidity of the summer night.

"Neal, what happened back there?"  _Where you thinking about running?_  Peter asked himself.

Neal's voice was quiet. "I just wanted to take a last look at the lake before we go back tomorrow."

"So, you decided to slip away from the cabin, without any shoes, in the middle of the night,  _in the rain_ , to look at the lake?" asked Peter incredulously.

Neal answered tiredly, "It was a reflex. I really didn't consider my attire."

"What about the car keys?"

"What about them?"

Peter was getting wound up. Neal was being insufferable, like always. "Did you just grab them for a walk through the woods?" he asked in an exasperated voice.

"They looked lonely in the counter, thought I'd give them a final look at the lake too."

Peter shook his head. "Go to sleep Neal," he said with a sigh. "Most of the time I really don't know what the hell is going on in your mind." He pulled the blanket closer and resigned himself to a night sleeping onthe chair. He certainly wasn't letting Neal out of his sight again.

"Don't screw this up," he mumbled after a while. Neal had his eyes closed and hadn't stirred since settling back on the couch. "You drowning in a lake under my watch would probably be a mountain of paperwork."

Neal listened in silence to Peter's words.  _It's inevitable Peter,_  he thought,  _screwing up is what I do best._

 

* * *

 

 

The drive home was uneventful. The tension of the night was gone and Peter was mostly worried about Neal. Hehad helped load the car and then had slept for almost the entire ride home. When they made it back to the house Peter was once again amazed at Neal's abilities. He acted completely normal and excitedly recounted to Elizabeth everything they had done. It seemed like whatever had happened last night had been a fluke. He didn't like it or trust Neal's acting one bit.

 

Neal skipped school on Tuesday and found a disconcerted Mozzie at his place (Wednesday). Adler had found him and he was working for him again. He was pressuring him to find out where Neal was, which meant that for the time being, he was still safe. Mozzie had been doing small jobs for Adler. Sort of like the ones they used to pull before, but he could tell that something big was brewing. The mysterious music box Adler was so obsessed about had something or everything to do with it.

"You should run Moz. Get away from here. I'll be fine with the Burkes."

Mozzie gave him a look. "Yeah right man, you're going to trust the sovereignty of Uncle Sam to defend you against Adler? Good luck with that."

Neal lifted up his pants leg to show Mozzie his anklet. "Look, it's not like I have a choice. You can go. We don't need the fire this is going to bring."

"I know."

They both sat down in the table. Mozzie took a sip of his wine and continued. "He wants me to crack a code. It's a secret code that was hidden in the music box. I've got no idea what it leads to. Also, a big job is coming up. I'm supposed to hit the Guggenheim."

Neal seemed startled. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, why?" Mozzie responded.

"We got a problem."

"We should maybe copyright that phrase."

"Tell me about it. Look, Peter's team was working on a tip about a possible hit to the Guggenheim yesterday." He got up and pulled his hair back with his hand. "If you're going to do that job you're going to need help."

"I don't want you involved. I'm pulling together a team. You, just keep me informed about the feds' movements."

Neal was uneasy. This couldn't turn out okay. "Maybe you should just back down from this one. Moz, you haven't pulled off a big job without me in years, certainly not with the feds breathing down your neck."

"In order to succeed, your desire for success should be greater than your fear of failure."

Neal wrinkled his nose. "Picasso?"

"Bill Cosby." Mozzie got up and put a hand on Neal's shoulder. "I'll work on a way out. Trust me." It was hard to appear this indifferent to the situation at hand, but Neal needed the security. If it wasn't for him, Mozzie would probably be halfway down to a private island somewhere in the Mediterranean. But he couldn't leave, and he was out of ideas on how to get out of this one.

"Okay **,** " Neal agreed quietly, not quite wanting to trust him at all.


	14. Chapter 14

"When is this from?" Neal asked after a couple of seconds contemplating the photo in his hands.

"Yesterday."

"Is it reliable?"

"As reliable as you're going to get. There's nothing else, Neal. You know Adler, nobody wants to mess with him. If you have that picture in your hands it's because he wanted it."

Neal nodded and looked up at the man before him. "It's Moz, Hale. I can't just ignore it."

Hale shook his head. "It's a trap and you know it."

"It's a risk I'll have to take." Neal extended his hand and they shook. "Thanks for this."

"I hope you find Mozzie in one piece. I've always liked him." Hale straightened his suit jacket, got in his car, and drove away from the alley.

Neal shifted listlessly while looking at the photograph Hale had just given him. It showed a black van with an older man behind the wheel and Mozzie sitting in the passenger seat. Both were wearing black and both looked fine. The thing was, Mozzie was most definitely not fine.

It had taken a week of silence on Mozzie's part for Neal's worry to escalate to a point where he'd had to turn to his street contacts to find him. It had taken another three days for Hale to come up with any information. Mozzie had been seen hanging out with Adler's men. The only problem was that nobody knew what house they were operating from. Adler had several. It had taken two more days for the photograph to reach his hands.

It had been almost two weeks without contact from Mozzie and Neal was beyond restless. Something was definitely wrong. He had eavesdropped all week in the office, and Peter's team was close. They were monitoring the Guggenheim closely and whatever Moz was trying to pull, it was going to happen this week. It was likely that they were going to catch them, and Neal couldn't decide if it would be for the best, Mozzie being in jail just to escape Adler.

Neal shook his head and with slightly shaking hands he tried once again to dial the emergency phone number from the burner phone Mozzie had given him. No response. He slipped the phone into his pants pocket and grasped the USB drive inside while he made his way to the FBI offices. He walked straight to his desk and sat down to play with his rubber band ball. It was lunch hour and Peter and Diana were gone. He usually didn't come to the office this early, and always had lunch in school. Jones was still at his desk though. He looked at his watch. He had 20 minutes to get Jones out of there before everyone else got back.

He got up quickly and had a coffee cup in his hand four minutes later. He waited for a minute and saw his opening when Jones got up talking distractedly on his phone. Neal walked towards Jones' desk and pretended to trip, spilling coffee all over Jones' shirt.

Jones recoiled and hastily shouted something into his phone and turned it off. "Shit!" he exclaimed. He grabbed a few napkins from his desk and tried to wipe the coffee from his clothes. He looked up and finally noticed Neal on his knees in the floor.

"Neal, are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm sorry Agent Jones. I wasn't paying attention and I must have tripped with that trash can." Neal got up and gestured to an overturned trash can on the desk beside them. "Looks like I really did a number on you."

Jones looked down at his ruined white shirt and blue tie. "This is just perfect!" he grumbled. "I have a meeting with Hughes in an hour." He looked at the spilled coffee on the floor and then at Neal. "Hey, can you make sure this is cleaned up when I come back? I have a spare set of clothes in my locker downstairs."

"I'll make sure it's clean. Sorry again, Agent Jones."

Neal watched with a smug smile as Jones disappeared into the elevator and he found himself alone with Jones' computer before him. He turned the chair around, sat down, inserted the USB code scrambler into the computer and waited to get access. Two minutes later he was pulling all the information on the license plate from the van in the photo. He grabbed the papers from the printer, folded them and put them in his back pocket. He took out the USB, erased the search history and logged off the computer. He made his way to the utilities closet, came out with a mop, and by the time Diana and Peter came back from lunch and Jones returned with a clean suit, he was sitting quietly at his desk examining case folders.

 

* * *

 

 

The information he acquired was everything he needed to get to Mozzie. He recognized the name on the car registration as one of the aliases Adler used, and the address belonged to a warehouse not far from the Burke's home, a place barely outside of his radius. He conned Peter into thinking he had a terrible headache and acted grumpy and miserable all afternoon until Peter ordered him to go home.

He made his way to the address immediately and after ten minutes perusing the entrance fifty feet away, he was sure that this was the right place. It would be foolish to go in and try to grab Mozzie. Adler wasn't a man that did his own dirty work. He always had enough muscle around to make sure that intruders understood they weren't welcome. If he tried to get into that place by himself, then he'd get caught and they'd both be screwed.

He thought about just going in and getting caught. Would Peter think he was running when he stepped out of his radius? Could he risk going back to Juvie? He was sure Peter would come after him, but could he keep it together until the cavalry rescued him? He made his way home and made a decision. As much as Mozzie would probably be mortified about it, he needed Peter's help.

Neal brought it up after dinner. Neal was sitting down pretending to do homework. Peter was going through files and El was working on her laptop. Frankly, they were both relieved to see Neal finally getting back to normal. He'd been acting strange all week and he had hardly spent time with them during the evenings.

"Peter?" Neal asked.

"Yeah?" Peter didn't even look up from the files he was reading.

Neal took out the picture and the folded pages he'd printed with the information. He knew he'd get in trouble, but he had to do it.

"Adler has Mozzie."

Both Elizabeth's and Peter's heads shot up at that.

"What," Elizabeth asked a little bit shocked. "Are you sure?"

"A…umm… a friend of mine gave me this today." He passed the picture over to Peter.  _Be brave now, Neal,_ he thought. "I got this information from that license plate and I'm sure it's him. I recognize the address." Peter grabbed the papers from Neal and stared down at the printed pages. "I can't really go there by myself, but Mozzie is in danger. I know it." Neal's voice was starting to sound frantic.

Peter just stared at everything he'd handed over and asked him in a cold voice, "Neal, where did you get these?"

Neal shuffled uncomfortably in his chair. "I told you, a friend gave it to me. Look, it doesn't matter, okay? What matters is that we need to go check out that place."

"It does matter. Neal," he said with an inflexible tone, "did you hack into my computer?"

Neal had the decency to at least look ashamed when he answered. "No. Jones'."

Peter drew a hand to his forehead rubbing it. "The spilled coffee today."

Neal only nodded. He looked over to Elizabeth who was staring at both of them, ready to intervene if things got out of hand.

"Peter, can't you just ground me or something later? Mozzie's in trouble. It's been almost two weeks since he's made contact." Neal stood up from the table and started pacing. "It's wrong. It's all just wrong… he wasn't supposed to find us."

Peter watched Neal pace; it was so uncharacteristic of him. He always seemed in control of everything around him.

"No."

Neal looked up and met Peter's eyes.

"Let's for a moment forget you got this information illegally, that you've obviously been disobeying me and going around meeting who knows whom to find this." He shook the photo in the air. "Let's forget that you conned an FBI Agent and hacked into his computer in the FBI office!" Peter was practically shouting by then, and Elizabeth reached over to grab his hand. He looked at her and tried to calm down.

"Let's forget all of that," Peter continued in a calmer voice. "Neal, do you have any proof that your friend is there against his will? Do you have proof that Adler has him kidnapped?"

Neal stared back. "No," he responded, and then continued rapidly. "Youdon't get it. We would never work with Adler again." Neal paused and thought,  _not after Kate._ "We didn't even know what we were getting into the first time around. He's got Mozzie. I'm telling you, why won't you trust me?"

"It's not matter of trust Neal. I can't get a warrant without proof. I certainly can't get a warrant to the house of a man the FBI is actively investigating without throwing away everything we've done to get him." Neal sat down defeated and looked at both of them.

"I can't just leave him there…"

Elizabeth leaned over to Neal. "Maybe it's time for you to let him go Neal. I'm sure he can take care of himself. We don't want you getting into contact with those people again. Like Peter said, maybe he's working for Adler."

Neal looked at her in disbelief. "He wouldn't, Elizabeth. You don't know him." This was all wrong. They were supposed to help him, not tell him to stay put. Peter was supposed to fix things. He could have run. He should have run and somehow he would have gotten Mozzie by himself. He turned back to Peter. "I came to you with this, doesn't that count for something?"

Peter knew what he was talking about. He knew that Neal could have ditched the anklet and would have gone after Mozzie himself. "No. We made a deal. I gave you something good here and you're about to blow it."

"I know where he is," Neal said, after another thought crossed his mind. "I just need a couple of days. I can go get him and I promise I'll come back." He looked hopefully up at Peter. "I can get him out and the FBI doesn't even have to get involved -"

"Stop it, stop it. How many times are you going to screw up your life, Neal?" Peter asked incredulously.

Then, everything just stopped. Neal got up so fast that he turned the chair over, making Satchmo run away from the noise. He didn't even look at the stunned Burkes. He just opened the door and left the house.

Everything was a blur around him and he could hardly see where he was going because of the tears in his eyes. How could he be so stupid to think that they would actually care about Mozzie? He kept running. He ran as fast as his legs could take him. He ran as he began to feel his head and chest pounding, the familiar panic attack lurking on the outskirts of his consciousness. He kept running even after his anklet started ticking in protest, not even registering the implications of being out of his radius.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. His lungs, his head… every part of his body was screaming in protest and he just let himself fall on the concrete. He sat and rested his head against the dirty wall of a basketball court. He had no idea where he was, and he just stayed there waiting for someone to come get him.

Sure enough, not even a minute later, he heard the doors of a car close and someone approaching him.

Peter knelt down in front of him. Neal raised his head still gasping loudly, trying to get some air into his lungs. They were both there. Elizabeth and Peter. They were both there and they looked worried. They were concerned about him, but they wouldn't help him.

"Neal," Peter started, in as soothing a voice as he could handle, "Neal, you understand that there's no proof that Adler has Mozzie without his consent?" Peter tried to reason with Neal once again. He needed for Neal to understand.

Neal gave him a little shake of his head. "He's not answering my messages, he hasn't contacted me. Adler's dangerous." He deliberated whether or not to disclose the next part, but he braved on. "He… he hurt some of my friends before. He's a killer."

Peter looked at El and they shared a look. They knew he was talking about Kate. Tears were falling down Neal's cheeks. His words were filled with anguish. They didn't know what to do or say. They'd never seen Neal like this.

"I just can't leave him. I can't," Neal told Elizabeth with a shaky voice.  _I can't choose between you and Mozzie._

Neal wiped the tears forcefully with his hand and looked at Peter in the eyes.

"Please, Peter. Please _…please,"_ Neal begged shamelessly. " _Please_ , do this for me." He frantically wiped off the tears that kept falling.

"If you help me, I'll do whatever you want." Neal's voice cracked. "Anything, I'll do it. Just help me save Mozzie, please."

Peter looked at Neal breaking apart in front of him, startled at the pleas. He didn't even know what he had been doing, trying to take care of another human being. He looked up at El and they shared a pained understanding at everything Neal's words conveyed.

He carefully lifted up Neal's chin with his finger. "Neal, what is it you think I want from you?" he asked gently.

Neal's eyes were full of pain. His words where full of despair. "I don't know."

Peter closed his eyes and sighed. He brought his hand up to rest on top of Neal's head and then let it fall to his shoulder.

"Okay," he said. "We'll go get Mozzie."

Not one of them expected what happened next. Neal shifted underneath his hand and got to his knees as he slammed himself against Peter's chest. He buried his face in his shirt and grabbed his jacket from behind. Peter was started at the suddenness of it. He was shocked by the contact Neal had never allowed, and was now giving willingly. He put his arms around the small frame against him and hugged him back looking up to a smiling Elizabeth. She was crying as well. Crying for Neal and for Peter, for the past and for what they could hope to be in the future.

 

* * *

 

 

Neal held on to Peter like his life depended on it. Peter's body was warm, firm, and reassuring. Neal's brain barely had time to process the relief at Peter's words, at Peter's touch. He'd gone so long without human contact that he sometimes was afraid he'd forgotten how it felt to be human.

He had never known such safety as he did in Peter's arms. He had never wanted to belong as much as he did right then.


	15. Chapter 15

Neal squinted trying to discern any movement from across the street, but it was pointless, it was too dark. The street lamp shone weakly and he turned once again to look at the clock in the car's dashboard. Had it really been only 5 minutes since Peter ordered him to stay in the car? It definitely felt like an hour.

After his pathetic breakdown earlier, Peter had called the cops to put the anklet back on. He'd dropped Elizabeth at home and reluctantly taken a still agitated Neal with him. Diana and Jones had met them two streets away from the building, and after they agreed to be discreet, they went to investigate and see if they could make contact and possibly extract Mozzie.

That had been, Neal looked at the clock again, 8 minutes ago! It was silent and the street in front of him was deserted, but he could see the light inside the building and he knew there was movement in the garage. He could see several people moving back and forth. He stared at his hands for a moment, struggling to obey Peter's order and stay in the car, but the promise was forgotten in the next second. Two consecutive shots disrupted his thoughts and the silence around him.

Neal jumped out of the car without a second's hesitation and made his way over. Suddenly, light flooded the street as several doors opened. He found cover behind a wall and observed the scene before him. Peter, Jones, and Diana had their weapons drawn and were pointing them towards five men standing by a truck inside the garage. One of them had Mozzie by the neck and was practically dragging him towards the vehicle. There was another man in the floor with a pool of blood all around him.

Neal heard Peter trying to calm everyone down, negotiating, and trying to get them to surrender. They were obviously not buying it.

Maybe if Mozzie hadn't kept struggling, they would have just gone and no one would have gotten hurt. Maybe if Neal hadn't chosen that particular moment to step out of hiding and shout to them as a distraction, then they could have overpowered them. But Mozzie hadn't stopped, and Neal hadn't stayed hidden.

Neal watched in horror as the man released Mozzie, lifted his gun, and shot Mozzie point blank in the chest. Another shot rang out not even a second later, and both the man and Mozzie fell to the floor bleeding. Then, all hell broke loose as the remaining four men took cover behind the truck and started firing towards Jones and Diana.

It took a moment for Neal to realize that Peter had grabbed him from behind and was struggling to pull him behind some crates on the other side of the garage.

"No! Oh my God, no!" Neal screamed. He couldn't take his eyes off of Mozzie. He couldn't hear anything around him.

Peter finally lifted him, shoved him behind the crates, and held him down.

"Stay here. Stay back," Peter ordered.

"No! No. No. Mozzie." He kept shaking his head and trying to free himself to get to his friend.  _No, no, no, no, no… God, no…_

They both heard the sound of the trucks' engine and then screeching tires as the truck drove away. The fire ceased and Peter slowly released Neal, who made his way frantically over to the pool of blood and his friend.

Mozzie was barely breathing. Blood kept flowing out of his chest at an alarming rate.

"I'm here Moz. I'm here." Neal dropped to his knees beside him and carefully put his hands over the wound. The blood felt warm, and he just stayed there repeating the same words over and over until he found himself holding on to Mozzie's hand. Peter had gently moved him and was applying as much pressure as was possible to the wound. He had taken off his jacket and covered Mozzie with it.

Everything that happened afterwards was a blur. He stayed with Mozzie when the paramedics arrived. He stayed with him in the ambulance. Somebody kept asking him where he was hurt. They must have thought the blood was his. He ran behind the stretcher until they wouldn't let him go further into the hospital. After that, he sat in a chair in a waiting room. Jones kept pacing and talking on the phone. Peter sat beside him. They didn't speak and didn't move until Elizabeth got there. Then, under El's instructions, they washed the blood off, and changed clothes.

Neal sat there in that waiting room, Elizabeth and Peter sitting close by, for nearly five hours. After that, he recalled a doctor, an argument, Peter flashing his badge, and finally sitting in a chair besides Mozzie's bed in a private room. He settled in the chair and closed his eyes. He was drained, completely and utterly exhausted, and his tired mind kept playing the same scene over and over in his mind. He fell asleep listening to gun shots and to Peter explaining how Mozzie was in a medically induced coma, and how they weren't sure if he would make it.

 

* * *

 

 

Elizabeth put a blanket over Neal's shoulders. She gently pushed the hair out of his eyes and returned to their chair on the other side of the room. Peter reached out to grab her hand as she sat down beside him.

"He's asleep…" Elizabeth said in a relieved whisper.

It was early morning and light was shining through the large hospital window. It had been a long night, and Neal had refused to go home, refused to eat, refused to sleep, refused to talk…refused to do anything except sit quietly in a chair until they told him he could see Mozzie. Peter had abused every single strand of power that came with his badge in order for the hospital to let the three of them into Mozzie's room.

Elizabeth and Peter were probably as exhausted as Neal was. Peter had spent half the night talking on his phone, trying to mitigate the situation. The consequences for what had happened were hard to fix. The FBI was breathing down his neck, trying to assess what had happened, why there had been a shootout involving three FBI agents, and why there as a body in the morgue. Peter had done his best, but he wasn't sure it was enough. The whole Adler case was in jeopardy because of his actions today…not to mention his job. Hughes had made it clear that the only reason he was going to help him get away with the breach of protocol that night was because he was his best agent, and he didn't want to send him to an early retirement. He also made it perfectly clear that he wouldn't permit another slip like this.

Peter sighed, and pulled Elizabeth closer to his body. She had fallen asleep almost as soon as she had rested her head on his shoulder. He looked over at Mozzie, Neal beside him on the chair, and he couldn't bring himself to regret what he had done.

Peter wasn't a very religious man, but he made a quick prayer for Mozzie to survive. If something happened to him, he didn't think Neal could ever get over it. He knew that Neal would break if one more person in his life left him. It would destroy him. As much as he didn't want to admit it, if Neal would break, he wasn't sure they'd be able to pull him back together. For reasons that he didn't understand, he didn't think that he'd be able to survive if he couldn't save Neal.

 

* * *

 

 

The next couple of days were awful. Peter had to return to work, to clear the mess up, but Neal wouldn't leave his friend's side. Peter and El took turns keeping him company, bringing him fresh sets of clothes and giving him food that was hardly touched. El brought him books and Neal pretended to read while he waited. They tried to get him to talk about what happened, but Neal deflected and insisted that he was fine.

Mozzie finally woke up two days later. It happened during the least expected moment, when Peter had just left for work and Elizabeth was on her way to the hospital. Peter left them alone after an hour of watching Neal sleep. He didn't want to wake him, every second of rest and peace for Neal was a miracle in itself.

Mozzie opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings, concluding that he was in a hospital room. He could hear the beeping of the machines around him, and with shaking hands he removed the oxygen tube from his nose. Neal woke up with a start. He looked at Mozzie and smiled.

"Hey…" Neal said with a soothing whisper. "Hey, Moz."

"They did it. They finally got me," Mozzie said turning around to look at Neal. "What happened?" he asked in a husky voice.

Neal considered going easy on him, but he decided that the truth, in this instance, would be better. "The bullet missed your heart by two millimeters."

"That's because I don't have a heart," Moz replied.

Neal gave him a questioning look. "Look at the bright side. You're not dead."

Mozzie actually groaned. "I know. It's worse. I'm in the system."

"Not exactly." Neal moved to lift Mozzie's hand closer to him. He gestured with his head to the hospital identification band around his wrist.

Mozzie read the band and managed a small smile. "Ivan Bliminse? Invisible man? That's apropos."

Neal's smiled widened. He pushed the call button beside the bed and watched as the nurse came to check on Mozzie and left again after a few minutes to call the doctor. Neal waited outside for the whole evaluation and after the reassurances by the doctor that Mozzie would stay asleep for most of the day, and that he'd be fine, he left to wait for Elizabeth by the elevator. He leaned against the wall in the corridor, and after she got there he managed a, "he's going to be okay," followed by, "can you take me to the house?"

They drove in silence until it got disrupted by Peter's call to Neal.

"Mozzie's awake," Neal told him as soon as he picked up.

Peter felt relief for the first time in two days, and smiled. "That's great. How's he doing?"

"He quoted Nietzsche to a nurse He's gonna be okay."

"Good. I'm glad, Neal. Are you staying in the hospital?" Peter asked.

"No. Elizabeth is taking me to the house. I guess I need some sleep."

"You do," Peter replied. "Tell El that I'll be home early tonight."

"Okay, bye." Neal relayed the message to Elizabeth and rested his head against the car window.

Half an hour later he was curled up in his bed. He had managed to close the door of his room, shove off his shoes, and pull a blanket around himself. He closed his eyes and cried. Although no one had dared to mention it, he knew that everything that had happened had been his fault. It just kept happening, over and over again, this… path of destruction around him.  _Dad, mom, Kate, and now Mozzie too_ , he thought,  _how long until I kill everyone else around me?_

 

* * *

 

 

El made her way into Neal's room an hour later, and found him in bed, awake. She sat down on the edge of the bed and talked to him. She talked to him about Mozzie, about how he would be fine, and about how Peter would find who did this. She told him they wouldn't let anything happen to him. She even told him that they wouldn't let anything happen to Mozzie.

Neal looked her in the eyes, nodded in all the right places, and in return told her what she wanted to hear. He told her that he believed her and that he trusted the FBI. He told her that he knew they would get Adler and that everything would be alright.

_El looked relieved for a moment, finding solace in Neal's words, but then she tried to grab his hand, and he pulled away from her grasp. He ever so delicately moved out of her reach. Her face must have shown her distress because they stared at each for a moment and shared a mutual understanding. He had just conned her. He was not alright. He did not trust them, and touching was out of bounds again._


	16. Chapter 16

To everyone's surprise, Mozzie consented to staying with the Burkes while he recuperated. Elizabeth had made the offer, Neal hadn't made an objection, and Peter took one look at his wife and shut his mouth about the subject. He figured that Mozzie had no one else to take care of him, and he'd rather have him under constant supervision.

They put a mattress in Neal's room and he slept on it, insisting that Mozzie should take his bed. The whole situation was strange, to say the least. The first few days after the hospital, Peter had been acting like a jerk around everyone, still angry about what he had let happen. He was angry at himself for almost letting Neal get hurt and for allowing someone else hurt Neal's only friend. He didn't want to make that same mistake again. Hurting Mozzie was almost the same as hurting Neal. So, he was angry and grumpy and exponentially sarcastic. He really didn't like the idea of a criminal in his home, and he trusted Mozzie even less than Neal, but it was important to Neal. He had promised to help him, and keeping his promises was something he always did. Making sure promises were kept, with little things as well as big things, was important, especially to someone like Neal.

Neal was angry too. He was angry at Peter, angry at the FBI, angry at Adler, but most of all he was angry at himself. So, he naturally acted like nothing whatsoever had happened. He did his homework and chores. He talked to Mozzie, Elizabeth, and Peter. He went to the Bureau after school, and he went home afterwards. He complained accordingly when he was grounded, although he knew he deserved it. His masks were in place.

Elizabeth wasn't angry. She was mostly worried. She worried about Peter and Neal's anger towards themselves. She worried about Neal and his lack of normal response at everything that had happened. So, she concentrated on being the best house host possible, and dedicated herself to getting Mozzie back on his feet.

Mozzie, apparently, decided to dedicate himself to unashamed adoration of "Mrs. Suit".

After the first few days post hospital, things started to get better. Peter eased up on his guilt, Elizabeth calmed down, and Mozzie started feeling less like an invalid, which lifted his mood considerably. Being conscious and able to say awake for more than an hour at a time meant that he was able to pay attention to Neal.

Neal and his never-ending pretend show. He was having nightmares again. They weren't as bad as Mozzie remembered, but they usually woke him up and left him short of breath for a while.

Seven days into Mozzie's stay with them, Peter woke up with a start. There was a soft shout of _Mom!_ , this time followed by  _Mozzie_. Elizabeth stirred beside him, and was starting to get up when he put his hand on her arm and told her that he had it. She nodded back uncertainly and stayed.

Peter made his way to Neal's room, but he stopped at the half opened door. He peaked in to see that Mozzie had  
somehow lowered himself to the floor and was in Neal's mattress trying to hold on to his friend.

"Mozz, no. Don't touch me!" Neal's voice had a desperate streak in it. He was breathing hard, trying not to panic. He tried to push Mozzie away, but he stopped when he heard Mozzie's painful gasp at the contact. "Please Moz, just let me go."

"That doesn't work with me, Neal," Mozzie responded.

"Just let me go, you know why…" Neal whispered back.

Mozzie sighed. "I thought we were over this, Neal."

Neal didn't try to push him away again. He didn't want to hurt him. "Look at what happened to you. You could've died," Neal said.

"But I didn't."

Neal shook his head. "No thanks to me. Just… stay away, okay?"

"Neal," something in Mozzie's tone of voice must have meant something to Neal, because he finally stopped fighting the situation and very carefully rested his head against Mozzie's shoulder. Mozzie released a breath and held him.

Peter tried to move back to go to his room unnoticed, but he met Mozzie's eyes as he retreated. They shared a look that let him know that his presence had been known from the start. He nodded and left as quietly as possible. He wasn't needed tonight. After what he had witnessed, a big part of his anger left him. It was as if Peter finally accepted Mozzie's place in their lives. If he wanted to keep Neal, he had to keep Mozzie as well.

Neal finally calmed down, lifted his head, and spoke in a whisper. "I don't know if I can do this Mozz."

Mozzie wondered for a second what he was referring to. Then he asked, "The whole reformed criminal slash perfect son act?"

Neal nodded. "I don't think I can do this to the Burkes." Neal clarified. "I'll probably just end up screwing it up. I don't think Peter will ever trust me, not after what I did…"

"Do  _you_ trust him?" Mozzie asked seriously.

It wasn't a hard question. "Yes," Neal admitted.

Mozzie nodded.

Neal stayed quiet for a while before asking, "Hey Mozz, do you remember your dad?"

"Hey man, don't go there again. You really don't need this," he said putting a hand on Neal's shoulder.

"I don't remember my dad… I hardly remember my mom," Neal looked away. "The one thing I do remember is what I wish I could forget."

"As memory might be a paradise from which we cannot be driven, it may also be a hell from which we cannot escape," Mozzie recited. They were silent for a few minutes before Neal spoke again.

"Maybe I'm just one of those persons who don't get to have a family. Maybe I don't need one... Probably better this way," he finished.

"Don't be stupid Neal," Mozzie said forcibly, trying to look at him in the eyes. "Everyone needs a family. The Burkes know what you're worth, and if they don't then they're the ones that are not worth it."

Neal looked back at him startled. Mozzie hardly ever talked about family, and he never talked to him like that. He wasn't sure he agreed, but he nodded anyway. He picked himself up, helped Mozzie into bed, and stayed up staring at the ceiling for two hours before he drifted to sleep again.

 

* * *

 

 

Mozzie left after exactly 8 days with the Burkes. They got home one day and he was simply gone, no note or anything. He called later and told Neal that he was okay and eloquently thanked Mrs. Suit for her hospitality.

Neal met Mozzie in the park a month later. He rushed over to their designated bench from behind and tapped him in the shoulder.

"Hey, Moz. Sorry I'm late," he was short of breath after jogging the last block.

"So, they conscripted your Saturdays. Go, FBI," Mozzie replied sarcastically.

"Not now Mozz. Something happened yesterday." Mozzie put down his newspaper and gave Neal his full attention. "Alex called. Adler has her," Neal said.

"Alex?" Mozzie always wondered why she seemed to know so much about that damn music box. He had hoped things would cool down after the last fiasco involving the music box, but it seemed like this was far from over. Now Alex was involved and that meant that Neal was bound to get sucked in as well.

Neal nodded absentmindedly. "I don't think Adler will stop," he answered, echoing Mozzie's thoughts. "He's hurt too many people because of this, Mozz."

Adler wouldn't stop. Neal didn't know what to think, what to do, but he knew that he couldn't let anyone else get hurt because of him. Now he had Alex, and he wasn't sure what the plan behind all of this was. He just knew he had to stop him, somehow, and if he got killed… so be it. At least he'd make sure to take Adler with him.

Mozzie recognized the determined look on Neal's face and frowned. "Neal, promise me you won't go looking for trouble. Alex knows how to take care of herself. Just let this be man."

Neal smiled.  _Peter could help_ , Neal thought, not paying attention to Mozzie.  _He'd help and then he'd get hurt or worse. Elizabeth would never forgive him. No. He had to do this alone._ He'd dealt with Adler before. It was suddenly clear that he was the only one that could put an end to this.

Mozzie's next words pulled him from his thoughts.

"Neal, how often do I say thank you?" Mozzie asked earnestly.

"Sarcastically?"

"No."

"Rhetorically?"

"Genuinely," Mozzie answered.

Neal shrugged. "I can't recall. Why?"

"You're done a lot for me. I wanted to say thank you. You know, for making the Suit go get me, and for taking care of me afterwards."

"Mozz, you don't really have to do this." Neal sounded a bit embarrassed, if that was even possible. "Plus, I think you've done a lot more for me…" Neal trailed of. He owed a lot to Mozzie.

"Well, for whatever it's worth. I appreciate it," Mozzie finished.

"No problem Mozz," Neal answered fondly. "Look, I have to go, but I'll see you for Wednesday dinner?" he asked as he got up to leave.

"Yeah, I'll be there. Tell Mrs. Suit that I'll bring the wine."

Neal left and made his way back home. The weekly dinner with Mozzie had been strange at first, but not anymore. Elizabeth and Mozzie had become friends and even Peter seemed to like talking to his friend.

 

* * *

 

 

Neal's break presented itself within a day. He'd found out from Peter's team that Adler would be in a gala at the Russian Consulate on Saturday. Elizabeth had an event that day and would be gone all day. Peter was obviously working in surveillance. He'd had to be slick and slip by, but it was the perfect plan, his only chance to get this over with once and for all. There really wasn't time to waste, more so if Adler still had Alex.

It was simple, really. On Friday, he make a copy of Peter's safe key and stole his electronic anklet key from Peter's key chain. At 5 pm on Saturday, he entered the Burke's room for the first time. He'd been home alone plenty of times, but although he'd stood at the doorstep and looked in, he couldn't really violate their trust by looking through their stuff. It felt wrong. This time, he went straight to the safe he'd seen Peter open a couple of times before. Satchmo sat down at the door looking at him curiously and Neal couldn't help but feel the guilt escalating in proportion. He opened the safe with the key and the equipment he bought the day before. He looked in and found papers, passports, some pictures, and Peter's backup gun. Neal started at it, frozen for a minute, and then grabbed it. It had the safety on, but it was loaded. He shook his head, to try to snap out of the trance, and put it away in his trousers.

 

* * *

 

 

She hated this part. The waiting and looking for something that probably wasn't even there. She looked at the feed and suddenly straightened up in her chair. Diana stared attentively at something in the monitor. It couldn't be. She looked closer.

It was.

Neal was there, and he'd just slipped through security after creating a distraction at the door. Why would Neal be here of all places?

She grabbed her phone and spoke hurriedly. "Boss, you're not gonna like this."

"What is it?" Peter asked in an annoyed voice. He was already inside the Consulate. It was crowded and he hated things like this. The Russians claimed to have anonymously received an amber music box from Catherine The Great's Amber Room in St. Petersburg. It was supposed to be priceless. The FBI had good reasons to believe that Adler had something to do with the whole thing. Did he have it before? If so, why give it back? If he didn't have it before, then they had plenty of evidence to sugest that he'd be there to steal it.

Diana's voice sounded urgent. "Caffrey just walked inside."

"Neal's here?" Peter asked, turning his body around trying to look for him. He stopped when he spotted Adler making his way upstairs.

"Yes. Should I go in after him?" Diana asked, already getting out of the car.

"Diana, make sure he doesn't get anywhere near Adler." Peter turned off his phone and followed the men upstairs, but was stopped by one of the Consulate's guards.

Neal had already made his way upstairs on the other side. He'd seen Adler as soon as he'd come inside. He heard Peter's voice arguing with a guard downstairs, and he hurried and slipped into the room he'd seen Adler go in, locking it behind him.

Diana was beside Peter, gesticulating and all but bashing her badge in the guard's face. Peter stepped away and fumbled with his phone and answered. "Suit, we have a code red."

Peter cursed. He did not need this right now. "Now is not the time, Mozzie."

He made his way upstairs with Diana beside him.

"It's a dark day when I turn towards the system instead of recoiling," Mozzie said.

"Just spit it out!" Peter yelled.

"Remember when you asked me to tell you if Neal was gonna do something stupid? Well, I regretfully report that he's out of his anklet."

"Damn it." Peter knew that already. He was here, somewhere, he was here without an anklet doing something stupid.

"But that's not the stupid part." Mozzie paused for a second. "He's got a gun."

They heard a gunshot from the room at the end of the corridor, and Peter thought his heart must have stopped.  _Neal_. He shoved the phone into his pants and drew his gun. They reached the door and tried to open it, but it was jammed. He could hear voices behind the door. Neal was in there,  _with a gun_. He slammed his shoulder against the door frantically trying to get it open.

"Neal!" Peter called desperately. "Neal!"

 

* * *

 

 

Neal was shaking. His whole body was shaking. His eyes were wide open, shinning and red. He had to blink a lot, blink just so the tears he could feel gathering wouldn't spill in front of the man he hated. He opened his mouth to take a calming breath.

He'd just fired Peter's gun. It blasted a hole on the wall, right beside Adler's head. They were alone in the room, but he had to do this fast. They were pounding on the door. Someone. Peter.

"Tell me why you killed Kate." He hated the sound of his voice. It was filled with hatred and fear. He was sure Adler sensed it as well.

"What are you doing Neal? I thought violence wasn't really your thing." Vincent Adler was cool and collected as always. He held his hands up in the air.

"You killed her. You almost killed Mozzie. You got Alex. Tell me one reason why I shouldn't put a bullet in your brain right now," Neal spitted out.

"Neal, you all knew what you were getting into. You were cheap investments, easy to manipulate, and no one would miss any of you when time came to dispose of your services." Adler lowered his arms and laughed. "I needed to set an example with Kate. Mozzie got what he deserved, and Alex had the key to the music box. Remember that small misunderstanding I had with the Russians a couple of years ago? Well, they wanted it, and I only wanted the code inside, hence this gala…"

"Shut up Adler. Just shut up. What do you want from us, from  _me_?" Neal pointed the gun at him.

"I need one more job from you-," Suddenly the door finally burst open, and Peter, Diana and half a dozen FBI agents waltzed into the room.

Neal glanced sideways and raised his gun again. He pointed it straight at Adler and tried to ignore the rest of the people. He had to end this now. Just a small squeeze and it would all be over. They would all be safe. He'd get the son of bitch that had killed Kate and hurt his friends. He hated him.

Peter was there. He was talking to him. Neal tried to ignore him and focus on shooting Adler, but he couldn't. It was Peter.

"Neal," Peter said carefully. He had felt relieved for a second after coming in. He felt relieved that Neal wasn't shot and bleeding to death like his twisted mind had imagined. The relief didn't last long. Not after looking at the teenager before him, gun in his hand, ready to kill someone. Neal, who would never hurt anyone, was going to kill the man before him, and he instantly wished he himself could kill Adler for making Neal this desperate.

"Neal. Neal, look at me." He lowered his gun and tried to get closer to him. "Neal, look at me."

"He killed Kate," Neal said painfully. "I'll kill him, for hurting Mozzie and Alex… He  _killed_ Kate." He stepped closer to Adler and never broke eye contact with the man he was about to shoot. "I want him to hurt. I want him to know how  _she_ felt," Neal's voice broke.

"We'll stop him, but not like this. Never like this. Trust me." Peter willed his voice to sound confident and reassuring.

"A conman never trusts, Neal. I taught you that," Adler said in a calm voice.

Peter wanted to strangle the man. "For God's sake, shut up Adler. You're not helping." He addressed the boy again. "Neal, you're not a conman; you're not even a man. You're a fifteen year old kid."

Neal was shaking again, this wasn't working. "Neal!" Peter's voice was quivering, but it held no room for dispute. It was a command. "Neal, look at me. Look at me, Neal. Neal, come on. Look at me."

Neal finally turned his head to look at Peter, but didn't lower his gun. Peter sighed. Neal looked so lost. Lost, alone, and in pain. He was shaking, his hair messy, and he had tears in his eyes. He was trying to take big breaths and was looking at Peter pleadingly.

Neal's whole body was begging Peter to stop him.

"Neal, this isn't you, put the gun down," Peter coaxed. "This isn't who you are."

Neal looked one more time at Adler and lowered the gun. He walked away and gave it to Peter while the rest of the agents moved in and Diana cuffed him.

 


	17. Chapter 17

Everything was different after that. Dinner with the Burkes had never been that hard. It had been two days after the last fiasco, and Neal was still in trouble with Peter. He didn't really know how Peter had gotten him out of trouble with the FBI. He didn't even want to know. The only thing that really mattered was that Adler was free again. They had nothing to hold him. He was gone.

Peter wasn't talking to him. Not really. Neal could sense that he was still very much angry at him for everything that had happened. He could sense it in the way his shoulders were so straight, his jaw completely tense, when he was around him. Neal had tried hard all day, he told jokes, washed dishes, did his chores, stayed grounded in his room… but nothing seemed to help. Neal briefly wondered if going back to Juvie was something Peter would consider, but Elizabeth had assured him that it wasn't.

Peter  _was_  angry. Neal didn't listen to him, he told him not to do anything stupid. He could have died! He almost killed someone! Peter didn't even want to envision what that would've done to Neal. He'd had to work hard to keep Neal out of prison, and that was only thanks to the cooperation of all the agents present at the scene that day. His efforts wouldn't have mattered if Adler had decided to press charges against Neal, but he hadn't.

Neal gave Peter a disconsolate look after he excused himself from the table and the man hardly acknowledged him. Elizabeth suggested a walk with Satchmo to clear their minds and after taking the dishes to the kitchen, they left everything in the dish washer and went out. Elizabeth hadn't judged or admonished Neal, but her disappointment was almost palpable.

"El, I've never lied to Peter," Neal tried to explain, a couple of houses down the block. He needed El to understand, to tell him it was alright and that Peter would forgive him somehow.

"You did leave things out. You conned and stole. You could have done something unforgivable, Neal." Elizabeth and Satchmo walked beside him in the sidewalk. She was agonizingly direct.

Neal's voice took a pleading tone. "You don't understand. I had to stop this before anyone else got hurt."

"Neal, Peter really wants to trust you, but you keep giving him reasons not to."

"I didn't think it through. I didn't think…" Neal stopped and took Elizabeth's hand, the one not holding to Satchmo's leash. "Elizabeth, I'm sorry."

El smiled. "Honey, you don't have to apologize to me. I know you're sorry." She sighed as Neal let go of her and then continued walking. "Peter likes things to be straightforward. Have you apologized?"

"I don't know if I should. I know he's never trusted me." There wasn't really a reason why he'd trust an apology.

"Do it, honey. You need to make this right."

Neal gave her an uncertain smile and they walked quietly around the block and back.

Later that night Neal got up to go to the bathroom and saw the light still on downstairs. He made his way down and found Peter on the dining room going over a pile of files. He was just like he'd left him three hours ago.

"Peter?" Neal asked, his voice almost a whisper.

"Hmmm?" Peter didn't look up from the files on the desk. Neal could see his shoulders tensing.

This was hard, but Neal had to say something to make this right. Did Peter think he didn't care about everything he'd done for him?

"I know I complicated your life -" Neal started.

"Stop," Peter raised a hand and met his eyes for the first time in two days. Neal stood barefoot in stripped pajama bottoms and an old college t-shirt of Peter's. His hair was messy and he had an eager puppy look on his face. His shoulders relaxed and he let go of a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He wasn't really angry anymore, at least not at Neal. "Don't say anything else, kid," he said.

Neal stopped short. He had his whole speech prepared, but he guessed he could go for a simple classic approach. "Can I just say thank you?"

"I told them the truth," Peter replied, knowing he meant getting him out of trouble again.

"But you didn't tell them everything," Neal pressed.

Peter shrugged it off, like it was something that didn't matter anymore.

"Thank you for… stopping me, as well. I… I know what this opportunity means. Trust me. I won't let you down again."

Peter's voice turned serious again. "You almost killed a man." He paused, letting his words sink in.

"I know." Neal's voice was filled with emotion. Regret. Remorse.

Peter closed the folders, turned off the light, and headed for the stairs. "Come on Neal, lets get some sleep."

 

* * *

 

 

It took a week for Peter to finally unwind. Peter sat down in his patio beside Elizabeth. It was a chilly night, and Elizabeth had placed a dozen lit candles all around the patio. He sat down and reached over to take her hand in his. He squeezed it and let it go.

"I still don't understand this connection I have with him," Peter admitted. "I covered everything up, and I would do it again to keep him safe," he said incredulously.

"Honey…" El looked at him lovingly. This was part of why she loved him so much.

"We are complete opposites El, like…shadow and light. He's a criminal and I'm the law…. I… I just care about him. I can't understand how I can feel so strongly about this kid," Peter said disconcerted.

"Well, I know why," El replied confidently. "You two are so alike. There's a lot of Neal in you; the part that enjoys the rush, the con, the game, the deceiving, and the winning. There's a large part of you in Neal too… Neal yearns to have those things that make you who you are. He wants to have a home, friends, and family. He wants to be loved. It just hasn't been easy for him. It still isn't."

"I think I know that. I see it. I know he can change – has changed, but I still can't help but wonder what he's gonna do next. I'm not sure if the lying and manipulating will ever stop."

"You'll just have to trust for the best. Believe in him, he'll change."

Peter looked at her lovingly. How had he ever gotten so lucky?

 

* * *

 

 

Adler contacted Neal the next week. He asked him to meet him the next day, and Neal had agreed. He deliberated on whether he should tell Peter or not, but decided against it, for the same reasons as before.

Peter had seen Neal act strange all morning, there had been break at school, and he'd taken him to the office to help around . He was quiet and subdued and all around too well behaved for his liking. It was worrisome. He saw Neal get up nonchalantly from his desk at lunch time and didn't even think about it. He grabbed his coat and followed him. He would be there for him this time.

Neal got to the Vanderbilt Gate in the Conservatory Garden, and waited for the call. He got it, and looked up to see a limo there, with the door opened. Peter hurried to stop him.

"Neal!" he shouted as he grabbed him by the shoulder. "What are you doing?"

Neal turned around startled. He'd been so focused on what Adler wanted that he'd actually missed Peter following him. He wasn't supposed to be here.

"Go away Peter. This is something I have to do myself. After this, you and Elizabeth get to have a normal life. It's what's best for everyone."

"What about you? What happens to you?" Peter asked him.

Neal shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

Peter looked at him with disbelief. "Don't do this, Neal. I'll go with you," he offered.

Neal looked at him fondly. "Peter, you don't have to do this. I know that I keep messing things up… that I've let you down. This is my chance to make things right."

Peter tried to think what to do. A man had stepped out of the limo and was waiting for them to go inside. He wondered for a second if he'd had time to create a diversion and get Neal to escape. Maybe he could somehow contact his team, but there was no time. Peter held on desperately to Neal's arm, not wanting to let him go. "You're not alone. Not anymore, not ever again. I'm going with you."

Neal finally nodded and they both made their way to the limo and got in.

Peter wasn't sure of what had happened afterwards. He had woken up in brightly lit white room beside a still unconscious Neal and a young woman his muddled brain had taken a few seconds to identify as Alex Hunter, one of Neal's old associates.

The talk on the limo had been brief. Adler had been a son of a bitch and Neal had been impulsive and naïve once more. Peter remembered deactivating Neal's anklet and then he'd seen how Neal had taken a drink of whatever drug they'd given him. He had followed suit. At least now they knew what the code to the music box lead to. It was a sunken Nazi U-Boat, filled with priceless art and treasure. Adler had wanted Alex for her information and Neal for his skills. He wanted people that he could manipulate and dump at his will.

Shortly after Neal woke up, Adler walked into the room and took them all to the sub. It was impressive. There were explosives in the doors and Adler had made Neal take Peter to help him open it. Peter was glad. He didn't want to let Neal out of his sight.

The problem was Neal wasn't sure he'd be able to open it. No, he was sure he would open it, he just didn't want to anymore. Not with Alex and Peter as hostages. As soon as it was opened, they would all be dead.

He walked to the base of the sub but stopped and turned around.

"What are you doing, Neal?" Adler asked derisively.

Neal responded decisively, "I'm not doing this."

"Did you suddenly forget who has the guns?" Adler raised his gun and showed it to him mockingly.

"No, but I'm not doing this until you let Alex and Peter go."

Adler laughed emphatically, like Neal had just told a long forgotten joke. "There's nothing sadder than a con man conning himself. Come on, Neal." He made his way downstairs and walked to stand beside Peter.

"You really are something else, my boy. You have to learn that there are things in life that are not up for negotiation." He lifted his gun before either of them could do anything, and hit Peter on the back of his head. Peter collapsed on the ground, but before Neal could even take a step towards him, Adler grabbed Peter by the collar and pushed his gun at his blood covered head.

"Hey, Peter, Peter…" he taunted happily. "Wakey wakey Peter." Peter opened his eyes slowly, but didn't say anything. Neal was relieved to see that he was okay. Disoriented and hurt, but okay.

"Get on with it Neal. I'm pretty sure you don't want to be responsible for someone else's death. You really are a death magnet, aren't you?"

Neal shook his head and tried to shut his words out. Of course he was right, and Peter didn't have to pay for this. Not Peter. He grabbed the tools, climbed the U-boat and started working on the hatch. He removed the panel and cut the right cables. Breathing heavily, he begged that a panic attack wouldn't hit him, and took long deep breaths. He figured out the password of the enigma and opened it. He looked over to see that Peter was slumped against a wall, and was being held at gunpoint by one of Adler's henchmen. Adler himself was smiling and going up to see the treasure inside.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter couldn't believe this was happening. Adler was going to kill Neal. Somehow, Neal had gotten the sub open and suddenly, they weren't needed anymore. He got up and took advantage of a moments gaze of his guard in the other direction. He disarmed him and knocked him down easily. He shifted and ran towards Neal and Adler. The man had his gun pointed straight at Neal and was apparently saying goodbye.

Peter raised his gun, took aim, and his bullet hit Adler right on the chest. Even through the haze in his mind, he had no doubt that Adler was dead. He hurried over to check on Neal. The boy was shaking, and he could sense the fear emanating from him. Neal had dropped to his knees unable to turn his gaze away from the body in front of him. Peter turned him around and was about to gather him in his arms when he heard another shot followed by unbearable pain in his shoulder.

Neal finally reacted. He grabbed Peter by his arms, but couldn't hold on to him. Peter was slumping forward, and the weight was too much. He lowered him as gently as possible to his back and stared at him. Blood was oozing from the bullet wound on Peter's shoulder and a small pool was already gathering around him on the ground.

He had to do something.  _Damn it, do something Neal. Do something._ He could feel the panic building, but he couldn't panic, not right now, not with Peter bleeding. He pushed as hard as he could into the wound and saw Peter's eyes flutter open and gasp. Neal's mind didn't even register the commotion and shouts around him.

Jones was there. He was telling him something. "No!" Neal shouted hysterically when someone tried to move him. "God, no… I can't. I can't do this again…" His voice was filled with such anguish that it was painful to hear.

"I can't… I can't… can't…" Neal mumbled incoherently. His eyes were clouded.  _Peter. Please God, not Peter… not Peter… not Peter…_ His heart was pounding so fast, his chest hurt.

Peter raised his uninjured hand and cupped Neal's cheek carefully, making him look at him. "Hey… buddy," his words were tender, but filled with pain. "It's okay…"

" _Peter_ …" Neal choked out, his tears spilling everywhere.

Then, somebody grabbed him from behind and there where people everywhere. He registered Jones' voice and he watched transfixed as the EMTs worked on Peter and then took him away.

Someone – Jones – covered him with a thick blanket and wiped the blood of his hands. Neal found himself inside a car, driving somewhere. He closed his eyes and let the darkness claim him.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify (since someone once mentioned that it wasn't clear): one of Adler's men was the one that shot Peter and Adler himself is definitely dead. Alex got away somehow when the FBI burst in.

Jones paced around the hospital waiting room. Peter had been taken to surgery as soon as he was brought in, and after he'd woken, Neal had excused himself to go to the bathroom. He'd cleaned himself up and was now sitting calmly in a chair by the door. No crying, no nothing really. Was he in shock? Jones didn't even know what to make of it. He turned around once more and relief flooded his body when he saw Elizabeth Burke making her way towards them. He met her outside the door.

Elizabeth grabbed his arm. "Clinton, how is he?"

"He's in surgery. I don't really know anything else, just that it was a clean shot, it didn't hit anything important. That's what the EMTs said."

She nodded and then turned towards the boy sitting inside the room. She made her way over, dropped her bag on the chair beside him, knelt down before him, and gathered him in his arms. He was surprisingly pliant.

"Neal." Her voice held so much emotion that Jones was glad that there wasn't anyone else in the room. He exited the room, leaving them alone.

Neal turned around and hugged her back before letting go. His eyes had something strange in them, and he smiled at her. "Hi Elizabeth."

She got up from the floor and sat down beside him, keeping hold of his hand. "Are you okay honey?" She asked worriedly. Diana had called and explained everything that had happened.

Neal gave her another smile. It was a twisted smile that didn't reach his eyes, and it made Elizabeth's stomach churn. He nodded vigorously and pressed her hand. "Sure."

Elizabeth didn't say anything else. Neal didn't appear to be registering what was happening anyway. So, they sat like that, holding hands, for nearly two hours before Neal's hand finally started shaking.

He couldn't ignore the thought anymore. He knew it. He'd said so to Mozzie. He'd tried to explain so many times before.  _This is my fault_ , Neal thought. He could feel himself starting to shake. _I'm bad. Bad things happen when I'm around._  He started rocking back and forth trying to ease the anxiety. _I could have killed Peter. Peter could be dead. Maybe Peter is dying right now… I'm a bad person. I'm a bad person…_

"Neal?" Elizabeth asked in a worried tone when the rocking began.

The words slipped out before he could even register them. "I'm a bad person."

Elizabeth gasped and she raised his chin, making him look at her. "Neal, that's not true. This wasn't your fault."

Neal laughed and shrugged. "That's just who I am. I hurt people."

"No." Elizabeth's voice was strong and unyielding. "No, Neal. You didn't shoot Peter. You didn't hurt him."

Neal just smiled.

 _God, what was going through his mind?_  Elizabeth's heart twisted in pain as she finally understood and the epiphany hit her. She got it now, his rule against touching, she got it and she looked at him horrified. It wasn't because he didn't want to get hurt. It wasn't because he didn't want to let anyone in, like Peter had suggested. It was much worse, somewhere along the last few years, Neal had somehow rationalized that bad things happened around him, that bad things happened  _because_  of him. He didn't want people touching him, because he didn't want to hurt anyone.

"Neal, you have to understand," her voice was pleading now. "This wasn't your fault. None of it has ever been your fault. Neal?"

Neal swallowed and looked the other way. Peter could have died. Peter was one more victim now. Kate. Mozzie. Alex. His mom, and probably even his dad. Everyone that had ever meant something to him had died or gotten hurt. Who was the common denominator? Neal Caffrey, that's who. Bad things happened around him. He had long learned to accept that, even if Elizabeth couldn't see it.

"Neal," she started, but was interrupted when a woman walked into the room and asked for her. She reluctantly let go of Neal and was informed by the doctor that Peter was alright and that she could see him in his room, although he was still asleep. Jones' came in and offered to take care of Neal. She thanked him and followed a nurse to her husband's room.

Peter looked pale. He had bandages around his torso and right shoulder and an IV line in his other arm, but otherwise he looked okay. She gave a silent prayer and crossed the room to sit on the chair beside his bed. She needed Peter, now more than ever.  _They_ needed Peter. God, Neal… how had they missed that before? How many years had he carried that burden inside? Neal, who was so charming, so smart, so confident… so young… how could he even think that?

She started stroking Peter's hair when she noticed a small bandage in the back of his head. She grabbed his hand instead and finally started crying.

Twenty minutes later, the hand moved, and her name was called by a raspy voice. "El?"

"Hi hon," she said with a smile, hastily wiping her tears.

"Hey hon," Peter closed his eyes but opened them a second later in alarm. "Neal?" he asked.

"He's fine," Elizabeth responded, but she couldn't keep anything from Peter.

"El?"

"He's umm… he's blaming himself," she answered.

Peter wanted to say something, but it was too much. He closed his eyes.

The next time he woke up, Elizabeth was there again. She smiled and held his hand once more and he noticed Neal sleeping on another chair in the corner of the room. He was much more lucid, and after a quick exam by a nurse, Elizabeth finally revealed to him what she had discovered from Neal. Peter sighed and closed his eyes. He couldn't even begin to phantom what Neal must go through every day.

Neal had been wrong, he had done something stupid once more, but Peter had been there this time. Although he didn't take any pleasure in what he had done, the relief filled him completely when he remembered that Adler was gone, and that meant that Neal could finally start a new life. As soon as he got him to talk… What Elizabeth had said scared him. It wasn't a time for secrets anymore.

The fourth time Peter woke up he was alone with Neal. The teenager was sitting in the chair beside his bed, looking at him absently.

"Hey, buddy," Peter said, his voice calm and steady.

Neal's eyes shot up. "Peter?"

"Hey, Neal, what's up?" he asked.

That made Neal smile. "Nothing much, just, you know, tired of waiting for you to wake up properly. Geez, you would think enough sleep was enough."

Peter laughed, but it died a moment later.

"Neal, you're not bad."

The boy locked eyes with him, but Peter could see him shaking his head slightly.

"You are not bad," he said, emphasizing every word. "This wasn't your fault, you're just a kid. People make mistakes. I'm alright." He paused, and repeated, "You are not bad."

"Okay." Neal whispered the word. He wanted to believe. He needed to believe, but wasn't all the evidence against it?

"Do you understand what I'm saying?" Peter pressed. "I got hurt, Mozzie got hurt… Kate, she died, but none of it,  _none of it_ , was your fault. In _any_ way, none of it was your fault."

Neal's eyes filled with tears. God, why couldn't he stop crying lately? He wiped the tears. Peter wouldn't lie to him, right? Peter would never… He hesitated before speaking, he'd never told anyone before, but he could tell Peter. Maybe Peter would see it then.

"My mom…" His words caught in his throat. "I was there, when it happened."

Peter lifted himself up on the bed and he regarded Neal with dismay. He'd read the file. Neal's mom had been mugged one night after she was coming back from work. She had been assaulted, shot, and had bled to death in the street. Neal had been eleven. Nowhere in the file had it ever mentioned that Neal had been there. Had he seen his mother die?

Neal was talking again. Every word sounded more painful that the one before and Peter felt his own eyes filling with tears.

"She… she worked a lot. My dad had left her completely alone with a baby, and there were bills to pay. I was alone most of the time, but she was a good mom, you know?"

Peter nodded.

"We used to have dinner in the Diner where she worked once a week and then we'd walk home together." He paused, trying to find the right words, but there were none.

"This guy came out of nowhere. He held up a gun. My mom gave up her purse, and he was about to leave, when I stepped forward and I guess he panicked. He… shot her. He shot her and ran, and I was left alone in a street, in the middle of the night, with my mom bleeding to death."

Neal's whole body was shaking, he couldn't even see through his tears.

Peter reached over ignoring the pain from his shoulder. "Neal, I'm so sorry."

"I just stood there!" Neal exclaimed. "I stood there, and watched her die. I didn't do anything. I didn't call for help. I didn't help her."

" _God Neal_ , you were just a boy. What could you have done?" There was a catch in Peter's voice, and Neal noticed for the first time that Peter was crying too.

"I don't know..." Neal trailed off. "If I hadn't stepped forward, or if I just hadn't been there in the first place, my mom would still be alive. Everyone else would still be okay. You wouldn't be in the hospital."

Peter's heart couldn't stand this anymore. "No, Neal. No." He grabbed him and hugged him, his muscles protesting. Neal hugged him back.

"Some things happen, and we don't have any control over them. What happened to you, it was horrible, and I'm sorry. I'm  _so sorry_. You did not make any of it happen. Neal, you're not bad."

Neal sobbed and shook. He cried while Peter held him. Peter rocked him and whispered reassuring nonsense in his ear. He cried until his body felt light and his face hurt, and then he fell asleep on the chair holding Peter's hand.


	19. Chapter 19

It had been a year. The treasure was returned, and things got better. Neal got better. They got better. Neal visited museums and took up gardening with Elizabeth. They cooked together, went shopping and to the movies. Neal walked Satchmo and helped Peter with cases. Mozzie was over for dinner every Wednesday night. Neal and Peter took a weekend off the next year for their annual fishing trip.

School was better for Neal, as well. Peter and Elizabeth had insisted, and he'd agreed to attend two months of therapy with the FBI psychologist. He managed to be more truthful than he'd intended at first, and it helped. He had some friends at school, no panic attacks, and although the nightmares never left, they were better.

Part of Neal's new work release program consisted in Community service. He enjoyed it, working on art projects with children in a hospital. He attended every weekend unfailingly.

Peter and Elizabeth had spent months researching and discussing. It started three weeks after Peter got out of the hospital. They couldn't envision their life without Neal anymore.

The necessary arrangements for his work release were done first. Half a year later their inquiries started in earnest and the process was initiated. They attended de Parenting Preparation classes, and they were there for all the visits and environment monitoring. It hadn't been easy; everything in Neal's case was special. Ultimately, Neal had the final word on it all.

It was finally the day before they had to sign and it would be official. Neal was sitting outside in their patio absently scratching Satchmo's ear and looking at the sky. Elizabeth had been busy all afternoon cooking his favorite dish for dinner. Peter had come home from work early and was probably setting the table.

Neal was looking at the sunset and realized he'd been trying to classify each color in his head. It was a game he'd liked to play ever since he was little. When he'd started, the only thing he'd had were the pictures in the books he perused regularly in the library. Neal relished at the memory of his ingenuity as a small child. He had found a way to make up colors, to classify them in his mind. The names and associations came back to him and he found himself holding on to the memory. The sunset was the color red from the lady's lips on Renoir's 'The Theater Box'. The blue was the color from the reflection of the dress on Rembrandt's 'The Abduction of Europa.' The orange was most definitely his favorite of the ten different shades of orange in Kandinsky's 'Blue Segment'.

Satchmo moved and settled down beside him, resting his head against knee. Neal petted him affectionately. The dog suddenly lifted his head and wagged his tail, but didn't move.

Neal not even bothered turning around. Peter made his way to another chair and sat down beside him, offering a root beer and taking a sip of his own beer bottle.

Neal took the bottle, closed his eyes and breathed in the wonderful smell coming from the open kitchen door. Elizabeth was talking with someone on the phone and her surprised and amicable laughter filled his heart with warmth.  _Home_. That's what his mind came up with when he thought of her. She was everything that meant home to him.

"You holding up?" Peter asked, taking another sip of his beer.

Neal smiled. As much as he loved Elizabeth, as much as he'd do anything for her, it would always be Peter. His voice, his presence, his…everything, he meant something much more important. Peter meant safety, security, refuge. Peter made him feel safe.

Neal resumed petting Satchmo and started talking. He'd been thinking about all of this for a long time, and he probably owed it to Peter to finally have this talk with him.

"You know, before meeting the two of you, I think I had been looking for something I couldn't even understand. I couldn't imagine something like what you've given me." Neal paused, taking a breath. "Peter, I want to stay."

"Neal, you're not going anywhere, you know that. El and I, we'll never sent you away," he responded calmly. They'd had this conversation before, many times.

Neal's jaw twitched and his brows furrowed. "I can't change who I am, who I was. Some part of that will always be in me."

Peter nodded. He understood. He had always known that. It had taken forever for Neal to accept that he had made mistakes but he himself had never been the reason for everything bad happening around him. "Even if you screw up a million times, we'll be here," Peter assured him.

They sat quietly for a while, El's voice drifting occasionally from the kitchen.

"I want to stay, but this is the last chance to back out."

Peter frowned. This part of the conversation was definitely new.

"Are you sure about this?" Neal continued anxiously. "I'm not exactly son material."

Peter turned to him, visibly vexed at the turn the conversation had taken. "There's nothing wrong with you. There never has been." He had to say something, apologize. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like something you are not. You are not a criminal, not anymore. You are a kind hearted boy."

Neal lifted his eyes and met Peter's gaze. Peter's voice had taken an affectionate tone, and the love and warmth of his next words was almost palpable.

"You are my son, and I love you."

"You love me?" Neal asked. It had never been said before, not directly, not by Peter.

"Yes," Peter affirmed.

Neal knew that. After all this time, he knew. "I trust you… it's just…" he shook his head.

Peter sighed. "Buddy, you got to let go of the past and keep going forward. Give us a chance. Give me a chance. I never make a promise I can't keep."

Peter rose, walked over, and knelt down in front of Neal. Saying those next words was not only necessary, it was vital. Neal needed this. They both needed this. He put his hand on the back of Neal's neck and pulled him forward.

"I promise you. I will  _never_  abandon you." Peter's voice was bursting with emotion. "If you agree to be my son, nothing you could do would ever drive me away.  _Nothing_. I will not leave you."

Neal felt the tears in his eyes. The man pulled him over for a hug and he went willingly. Peter's presence surrounded him completely. The safety was like a tidal wave hitting him full on and not leaving a single doubt in his mind. He held on and buried his head against Peter's chest.

It wouldn't be easy, he was sure, but he wouldn't be alone. Peter had promised. They would always be there. He knew it was the truth, and he'd never felt so certain of anything in his life before.

He belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!


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